the bridge

under a slow dawn
souls are gently bound
under the sun like flesh
firm and real
the light delivers reprieve
from singular senses of loss
inadequacy and disorientation
tactile overload in vision
touch
real objects
real things
closing the soul

through the surface of a cup of water
clear
nothing
there’s nothing there
more water
more nothing

early evening looses bindings
the void in place of the sun
stares with vacant eyes
beneath the dark blanket
souls become ghosts
thoughts of all things real are forgotten
things touched become unreal
things seen disappear to memory
emotions glow like moons in the night
the body of a soul becomes vapour
drifting between objects real and imagined
the imagined reality is made real
and the soul is alone
real and existing
emotions
perceptions
a universe of the perceived
the tactile world has gone
as if it never existed

______________________________

Commentary
March 28, 2010

I’ll have to check Vroenis around the same time in 2005, but this really looks like a massive turning point for me. I love this piece. Even though it’s a very literal translation of some of the way things happen with me, or were happening at the time, I feel my form was really taking shape here. Not sure whether they’ll crop-up again in the future, but it seems I’ve dropped many of my bad habits and just started writing without any inhibition in a really natural way.

With minimal editing, this may well have passed as a much more recent piece, and I’m slightly astonished that I wrote this back in 2005.