I'm swinging from the monkey bars with my brother. We are calling out to our brother who has been missing for twenty six years. We beat our chests in frustration. He cannot hear us. My brother is in another part of the country and I don't know how he has come to live. He has a family now, children a wife and a Dog. I don't know how he came to terms with being shipped off swaddled.
He is Oliver Twist. I am Jim Graham. This isn't the poem you deserve. I'm working on that one. It will take another 15 years for me to find. By then I will be my own Father and you will be my third eye. You will meet our parents for the second time, for the
first time, and love each other in contradictory terms.
3 comments:
I like bits of this...the beginning, the bit about the poem you deserve. Keep going with this one, maybe.
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It's really prose. I think you might consider expending it into a paragraph or two or stripping it down and getting rid of all the back story; you're explaining too much. It's not right as it is. It gets better as it progresses though.
Thanks Rachel. Work to be done. Though I feel surprisingly complete when I read this prose.
Jim. Thanks. This is really prose. Someone else made the criticism that this 'tells' too much. And to be honest, I don't have a problem with that, this is a highly private poem, so I'm explaining a few things to myself. So as a poem - it fails heavily. But as a piece of explanation and understanding, it sings true.
I'm not sure if I would add to it or just leave it as it is 'a brief outline' 'a few notes of explanation'. Work to be done.
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