26th Day of National Poetry Month – “Horizon of the Closed Heart”
Closed Heart (Actually, Locked Heart In this Case.)
26th day of National Poetry Month; a busy, social day, in which it was very very hard to come up with a poem draft. (As followers of this blog know, I’m “celebrating” National Poetry Month, by writing a draft poem a day. I hope you too are trying some.)
Horizon of the Closed Heart
The horizon of the closed heart is very short.
It is not like sun on water, that orb of glisten
that swallows the sea, and then is swallowed by it.
It is not like snow on mountains,
amazingly there in May, a dust of lost white.
Not even like a tall building edging the sky,
a compass hand to point this way as downtown,
this way up.
It lurks in the belly, pelvis, thighs; darts
into the forehead; but what it mainly does
is bind the chest, a second set of ribs bruised
by all the bumping into, bouncing back,
those reflections of the self turned in on itself,
the self, the self, the self, and all that it wants,
all that it lacks, spread thinly upon a small, mean space.
Tags: 26th Day Of National Poetry Month, closed heart, drawing of locked heart, horizon of the closed heart, manicddaily, Manicddaily pencil drawing, ManicDDaily poetry, padlocked heart, poem draft, snow on mountains/sun on sea
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ManicDDaily 
April 28, 2010 at 10:46 pm
I find this compelling, powerful. Reading it as a draft though, the lines recombine in my mind. I don’t mean this as a serious suggestion, but the first line morphs to “The closed heart hath a short horizon.”
(I reckon that no one can write “hath” in the 21st century, but the triple repetition of “h” sets a mood that an “s” in “has” repeating the “s” in closed would disturb.) I also find myself seeking to tighten
It is not like sun on water, that orb of glisten
that swallows the sea, and then is swallowed by it.
down in the direction of
Not like watery sun, orb of glisten
swallowing the sea that will swallow it.
From there everything sings right on key until perhaps the last lines
the self, the self, the self, and all that it wants,
all that it lacks, spread thinly upon a small, mean space.
which turn in my mind to
the self, the self, the self, and all it wants,
and all it lacks spread thin on small mean space.
perhaps broken as
the self, the self, the self,
and all it wants, and all it lacks
spread thin on small mean space.
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…Hope your cold is gone!
April 28, 2010 at 11:10 pm
Thanks. I’ll think about it all. You know I’ve never printed any of these on paper yet. (I probably shouldn’t confess to that!) It’s always useful to look at things on the actual page. I very much appreciate your suggestions, though I don’t think I’d go for watery sun, as I really do mean the sun on water.
But thanks again for your thoughts which are very useful.
I’m better but still a bit sick. Amazing how long these things linger. Luckily, I don’t get them often.
April 28, 2010 at 11:42 pm
Actually, I do like spread thin better than thinly. But I tend to go for upon, somehow.
April 30, 2010 at 12:11 am
“Upon” for sense, “on” for rhythm, I’d say. And that’s why I’m a composer not a poet…in music the rhythm *is* the sense. So you never have to choose.
April 30, 2010 at 7:03 am
See, I like the rhythm of “upon”. Though it’s really the kind of thing you’d have to read aloud a few times to assess. I’m pretty unadventurous in terms of rhythm.