These pages are too smooth,
a kind disaster of
white bread force-mined
from any random toothy
plastic smile. These miles
gain no altitude in their bright
chaos clouds, their graphic why
and wow and tumbled quiet stay.
They play well with people,
but paper is another story
bold in its insistent sway of empty
vault. Perhaps stones
thrown don’t ever really shine
without their own salt.
Love this: scissors, rock, but paper is another story — gorgeous writing, De.
I see this as being about stories vs. truth – stories told on pages – media spins… from those random toothy plastic smiles. And the whole experience, the black road… which is where the truth and reality reside …never quite making it to paper authentically.
The “stones thrown” thought – well, now. I take that to be about anger, criticism… that people who continuously criticize have something inside them spurring them on?
I love this!!!
I just noticed this was for the whirl. I didn’t notice at all! Not one word popped out at me from the list. That’s a really good sign! So is the fact that I keep reading it over and over again.
Ooh this is a delightfully complex turn..so many philosophical dilemmas wrapped in that seemingly innocent sheet of white paper..
Oh, that blank piece of paper! Wonderful poem, De.