A longer poem: the event

the_event_poem

We experienced.
And then thought.
Later we looked forward
to something.
The anticipation ended.
The event elapsed,
it finally happened.
We were in shock.
And the angst is past
us now. The event
happened and we remain
in its wake.
We look at each other.
Thinking.
Analyzing.
The event is over.
Now, we look.
We sit. We eat.
We memorize the story
of the event.
We wait for
another event.
We expect something of
incomprehensible rapidity.
We wait for destiny.
We experience truthlessness.
We are sad.
We try being human.
Soon, with cruel
intensity, it will come.
We drink. We write.
The words imitate flames.
We wait for understanding.
Then another thought, then
a hand followed by a cloud.
The event comes nearer.
Immense, like a wave of myth.
We talk. We kiss and ignore.
And sleep. And wake up
in rooms still of darkness.
We remember. An event
but not the event.
We try. We encounter.
Some perpetuity of repetition.
We imagine chaos. Another
planet of structure.
We listen. We weave
pleasures. We choose.
We feign. An event
exceeds. It renews
laughter, anger.
We forget the rhythm.
We crush our hopes.
We get naked and less logical.
We depend on revolution.
Then an anecdote. A joke.
A look in the mirror.
We question. And doubt.
The origin, the meaning.
The event continues,
we dress. We read fifty
pages of civilization.
We shift and shadow.
The event dances.
The event disappears.
The event makes a bird
lose itself in our language.
We remember the story.
The voice in our skins.
We draw lines and contours.
We invent strange cosmic
silences. We stand.
In moisture.
We hope and fear death.
We build an afternoon.
A mess. And the actual
size of the event.
We stare. There is a gap.
In the event, an opening.
We feel. Natural events,
hard episodes of injustice.
We make room.
We undergo war. Another
circumstance. Combinations
of raw force. We occur.
We ejaculate. A memory
in stone. An ideal in oil.
In transit, absentminded.
We despise and lose.
A sock. A lover.
An immense event escapes.
An immense object out
of focus. There.
An event ripples
in the light. A small
dot of meaninglessness.
A glimpse of seawater.
We imitate. A song.
The parody of proof.
We collect things. And
solitude in the cereal.
We put out some trash.
A solitary knot of
event. We calm the eyes.
The elephantine tears.
The glands of happi-
ness, the bed disheveled.
We recall the person.
The air around a woman.
The terrible essence
of that man. We translate
feelings. That event
at the edge of dust.
We pronounce promises.
We are older.
We electrify the options.
The event in the eyes.
An ecstasy. A somewhere
else. Then, a symbol
eclipses our breath.
Soon, the event a
decadence of melody.
We enact bodies. We
swallow densities.
The morning makes
a gesture. We howl.
After petals. And
feathers. And clitorides.
A thought of painting.
Inferno or a horizon.
Of pines, the smell
of lips. An event
desired. We leave.
We act.
A purple city.
A night without years.
We sit in sand,
in mounts of sorrow.
We practiced nihilism.
A long event. A quick
existence. WE allowed it.
We carried a version
of will. A point
of home. We began
with ash. And purpose
on a mountain. We
yield and it hurls.
The event found us.
We gaze.
We see bright
older selves.
We one last time.
We make a speech.
The event leaves,
we needed.

Contemporary Poetry

3 thoughts on “A longer poem: the event

  1. Actually I really enjoyed reading this. If “enjoyment” is the suiting term in this context. I can relate to this piece in a specific way since I see, some of my own thoughts and experiences mirrored and there is some reassurence in it, to know one is not the only one arround. Thank you anyway for the work you’ve invested, to me it was worth it. Please pardon my language but English is not my L1, my mother tongue. *follow*
    Best regards
    ARC

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