You can, you realize, not say what you think,
\nand sometimes, not say what you have thought all along
\nin that operative fashion into which words have been put.
\nThough, such language seems far more real than the one
\nlumped in your throat, not uncomfortably lumped, mind you,
\nbut wound around itself, nevertheless, like a ball of vibrant red yarn
\nthe color of your adolescent dress, cut off just above the knees.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Paying attention to the ways a ball of red yarn unrolls itself
\nwhen you accidently drop it is not unlike the seductive shock
\nthe unraveling of your private language evokes as it un-lumps itself
\non your tongue, when invited. Rolling over your shoulder, your words
\nclutch his arm, enter her ear, and before you know it, they traverse
\nthe room and slide under the door to lock fingers with dew\u2019s translucency.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
This very moment, adolescent self-possession dispossesses
\nitself of all operational hems, bones, and orifices, and transfers
\nits indisputable vibrancy to the red poppies that defy
\ntheir melancholic bend for a few more days.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
WHAT IF A TREE COULD CORRODE EXACTLY LIKE METAL? What if a tree could corrode exactly like metal? If driftwood became the new history book, What if history were framed in one huge painting or film, chiseled into one single sculpture, Do we prefer withering over blasts? Chairs over couches? Hands over feet? Skin over hair? In the best of all worlds we\u2019d have some rhubarb pie in a sky that holds a slanted piece of Gerburg Garmann, a native of Germany, teaches German and French at the University of Indianapolis. Her poems and translations of poems as well as her artwork have appeared in various magazines and anthologies around the world.<\/p>\n http:\/\/europeanartstudio.carbonmade.com\/<\/p>\n http:\/\/garmanng.wix.com\/art-a-leuropeenne<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" You can, you realize, not say what you think, and sometimes, not say what you have thought all along in that operative fashion into which words have been put. Though, such language seems far more real than the one lumped in your throat, not uncomfortably lumped, mind you, but wound around itself, nevertheless, like a [&hellip<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2388,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[39,102],"class_list":["post-2208","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry","tag-lori-field","tag-silverpoint-drawing"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2208","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2208"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2208\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2697,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2208\/revisions\/2697"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2388"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2208"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2208"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2208"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n
\ntell of pasts dislodged we\u2019d otherwise never get to know?<\/p>\n
\nor expressed in one opera, one symphony, or one fugue, before our ears and eyes exploded?<\/p>\n
\nGray over rust? Contests with things over contests with our memories?<\/p>\n
\nold metal, some withering cardboard, a drifting pencil, and a great deal of clouds moving in
\nfugues.
\n<\/p>\n