Sunday, December 17, 2017

26 tines


     While I am writing a longer narrative which should take several months to finish, I have decided to create single scene narrative poems.  The first one a few months ago was called "Lady Carmagnolle" and today I am opening the second virtual poem called "26 tines".
Lady Carmagnolle will remain with 26 tines being built to the left over a bridge from the landing
point where you arrive.  Again this uses the same windlight and shadow settings as Lady Carmagnolle as will all the forthcoming poems.  Some have asked me what a "tine" is.   It is the prong or pokey thing at the end of a electrical plug that goes directly into the wall.  The poem came from my feelings of not being able to really say what truly felt to another person.  That the English language that I use is too coarse and gap filled to fully express my feelings to people I care about.  That sometimes when I look into anothers eyes and talk, that there is a barrier, a space between two minds and bodies that I try to cross using clumsy tools.  I sometimes wish I could climb into anothers mind and somehow talk directly to them,  past all the detritus of the world around us.
    In this poem I imagined being able to plug directly into someone else and bypassing all words so that you just knew the other.  You "knew" what they meant, and they knew precisely what you wanted to say.  No confusion or misunderstandings.

     The story is of a laboratory at night which sees a maintenance robot come out to gather up a tiny robot in a jar.  Robots to me symbolize the mildly flawed or different in our society.  The ignored or obsolete.  Each night she comes out and they connect to each other with a cable and remain this way until just before the scientists, who have created them, return.  In many of my stories such as this one, it is the machines, the outcasts or the overlooked who possess more humanity than those who have created them.   This is the poem and this is the slurl to go see 26 tines in the virtual space.

26 tines 

The laboratory is silent
the scientists gone
we have seven hours
before the dawn

Come to me through the half-light
to my jar by the rack
surrender your cord
to the adaptor on my back

then dance me through the shadows
held tight to your breast
swaying in silence
like waves through a nest

26 tines
at the end of your cable
connect you to me
so that we are able

to feel emotions drawn
through the cables caress
and forget 'till the dawn
our loneliness. 

Post a Comment