Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The Art

The need for interior
the dialogue with characters
discussing plans
now I remember a gray woman
in brown with indeterminate hair
talking with her hands
she gets my attention
but I don't let her know
this is the art of lying
the art of being

People try to explain
the main points
they effuse and importune
feeling their extremities
and the common earthly balance
but all too often these
efforts fail while
exposing the rest
in time it doesn't matter
and love spreads itself thin.


Jan said...

The art of lying, the art of being and spreading love thinly...This poem seems to be about writing or perhaps about the interior life as opposed to the exterior life. But I'm not sure. For me it's blurry as in I'm not seeing clearly the thesis of this piece...but certainly it has me thinking about how we rant on and in the ranting expose our pain, blind spots, and vulnerability.

Jan, again said...

The title, however, says something to me. Dreaming out loud is an art and what we do on a daily basis. The real dreams are difficult to translate. Would you, if writing prose, put a period after "exposing the rest"?

Stirling Davenport said...

Such interesting comments, Jan. First, for me the poem was about how discursive thoughts and images sometimes pull at our insides ... and we don't really stop and engage with them, so in a way we are lying to ourselves. Yet this is all part of being human.

Then the second part of it is how futile words really are - and yet how completely we communicate no matter what we say out loud. Dreaming out loud is more about the dance between the inner and the outer worlds (at least, for me).

Thanks for thinking about these things.

Jan Hersh said...

It is, indeed, a dance. I see that.
I suppose that bliss is when the interior and the exterior expression gel and become one. Sort of like reaching nirvana or coming to a climax, sexually.

Stirling Davenport said...

That reminds me of a DNA strand - duality is programmed in us. The dance is life itself. The journey is the real bliss, I think. Those glimpses of eternity are like coming to a vista on a mountain trail - and seeing the valley spread out before you ... then walking on into the trees again.