Photo by L. Anthony and Lance Heard
Sweet swallowing eye lids of coal, why won’t you unstick? Switching memories for dreams, you take me on a ride where objects are particles of brain dust puffed up into imaginary ‘things.’ The kind that people don’t want to look at. An abandoned guitar. A torn out sheet of paper. A photograph too bright from exposure. What things are left burning from memory to sight? When will eye lids lift their vision to the light? I can’t tell what’s there when everything is white. A shine shifts in practice.
Reminds me that there is a lyric I need to write.
Reblogged this on LAnthony.
I’m married to a guitar player/enthusiast, so this really resonates for me. I think he’d especially like and identify with “Switching memories for dreams” and “a shine shifts in practice.” I love these stories you do centered around seemingly inanimate objects; you impart them with such life and light!
Interesting poem. Many thanks for stopping by my blog. There’s a new story up every Friday, so you’re welcome to stop by again.
I really like what you’re doing here. I’m taking a similar approach on my blog, where I’m using writing prompts to instigate random character sketches. I also like the cool precision of your prose – “A shine shifts in practice” is a line that captures what I enjoy most in writing, where the literal sense is elusive but you’re able to feel what it means.
Love this poem.