The piece is an example of sustaining a metaphor at length (likening oneself to a burst balloon.) This is not the focus but provides continuity through what is rather experimental in form and content. I enjoy writing poetry in free-formatting, which provides another element of expression and discourages wordiness. I generally only use it when writing by hand. I then imitate the formatting the best I can using the tag. As per a recent request, I will leave the images of the original written copy below. I will also display the poem in two ways, with images inserted, and plain.
Ideas/feelings explored
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Again we are faced with an interesting paradox and playing with archetypes. Typically, deflation means discouragement, disappointment, depression, etc. and has a rather negative connotation. However, it can also signal freedom from an overinflated ego! The feeling of being busted, slimmed down, less dense, insignificant (in the most neutral and profound sense) is something of a rite of passage. It has to do with the transition from the inherent self-centeredness (even narcicissm!) of youth into the "content insignificance" of maturity.
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It also expresses moments of feeling untethered to flesh, being a vague and subtle "somethingness." It explores the idea of losing something which was actually nothing and becoming so thin that one begins to feel one is slipping into another dimension. It questions the line between flesh and inert material and expresses the feeling of having everything living stripped away in a sort of numb bliss and continuing to rise regardless. This is of course humorous, if one is a busted balloon. How could one then rise?
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It asks whether events in the past, and the person one was before, were actually real at all. In a double entendre, it also asks if one was ever really taught anything at all, because in some ways knowledge seems to be unbegotten. Exploring the paradox of being burst and laying lifeless, but somehow having the feeling of flying. Being fully exposed but still unable to be interpreted except through the experience of simply being without concept. Finally we close by declaring the self shrunk, but not in defeat but rather triumph! We have minimized the illusion. The mediocrity has become profound. The foibles have become purified by our acceptance of them.
Stanza-by-stanza notes:
. Stanza one (Unfurled mammal...)
Balanced precariously between the concrete and the subtle. Fantasy balloons being popped by reality. Becoming disillusioned while still young. Yearning to become a sanctuary for life in its exquisite delicacy.
Stanza two (a lonely sufficiency...)
Radical vulnerability. Paradox of loss of something that was actually nothing. The feeling of melting through this dimension.
Stanza three (Expired but still rising...)
Accepting the inevitable death of the physical while asserting the expansion of the nonphysical (rising while rotting.) Stoicism through the shock of finding oneself to be quite plain and seeing beauty therein. Playing off the breakdown of the word sub-stance, the feeling of sinking (while rising?) Feeling reduced to the brutal mechanism of genetics.
Stanza four (Was I ever taut?)
The past self and memories feel very distant. What was one before and from whence came all these concepts? Laying here with thought totally obliterated, being unthinkable. The feeling of flying while stationary, being a total open book yet still unscrutable. Being stretchy like latex yet ripped, shrunken, inert. An uncomfortable feeling, unresolved: there is more, unknown, that is yet to come.
Deflated
Unfurled mammal
like a granite
bloom at dawn
I am burst latex.
depressurized,
an empty egg sac
a gourd (still on the stalk)
become hollow
a vase filled up with rain
(made from vines)
where crickets bathe.
.
a lonely sufficiency
airless
a burst balloon
timid child of
mountain dreams
my emptiness burst,
and I became sparse
(unviscous, vague
romantic)
like thin paint
melting through
the pores of
this dimension.
Expired but still rising
past putrefaction
devoured by microbes
stoic detritus,
grand with decadence,
shy imperfection of hope
I am busted.
substance that sinks
lower
lower
into low resolution
(pixellated punnet square.)
.
Was I ever taut?
laying here
unknowing
unknowable
in unstretched
space
flying here
transparent
exposed
unreadable
flexible
ripped
illegible
shrunk.
Deflated
(with images)
Unfurled mammal
like a granite
bloom at dawn
I am burst latex.
depressurized,
an empty egg sac
a gourd (still on the stalk)
become hollow
a vase filled up with rain
(made from vines)
where crickets bathe.
a lonely sufficiency
airless
a burst balloon
timid child of
mountain dreams
my emptiness burst,
and I became sparse
(unviscous, vague
romantic)
like thin paint
melting through
the pores of
this dimension.
Expired but still rising
past putrefaction
devoured by microbes
stoic detritus,
grand with decadence,
shy imperfection of hope
I am busted.
substance that sinks
lower
lower
into low resolution
(pixellated punnet square.)
Was I ever taut?
laying here
unknowing
unknowable
in unstretched
space
flying here
transparent
exposed
unreadable
flexible
ripped
illegible
shrunk.
@d-pend