I saw him again on the train. The boy with the improbably, oddly, beautiful face. There are many people between us and he is tall, so his face seems to hover over all like an awkward angel.
Again his eyes are closed and I can indulge in looking at him, the impossible lushness of his eyelashes, his eyelids slightly lavendared by the blood beating beneath his thin skin, his wide mouth traveling from one side of his face to the other.
Absorbing his planes and angles I get an enormous rush of desire for possession. I want to keep that face. I wonder if, armed with a real camera, I would ask to shoot him, right there, as he is, eyes closed, sealed tight and so lovely.
posted by ttractor @ 6:22 AM
4 Comments:
I was thinking about something like this the other day, wanting to see someone asleep, wanting to capture that, wanting it not to be a theft or an overincursion or necessarily even a requested event: just wanting to see, to study, to keep. I wrote it into a poem; these poems have been quite the thing with me lately.
the photograph
it looks startlingly like Coi in an ornamental fish pond, flashing and turning
the words
like your photography you sieze moments in time and breathe tantalizing life into them
thankyouthankyou
Dr S, I have missed you! I am only really understand peotry when I read it out loud. Otherwise I am hopeless with it. I know it is a character flaw and I am helpless to correct it.
I read paragraphs of your prose out loud, in my high-ceilinged room striped with night shadows, and I would do the same if I got a hold of your poems too.
thanks remue! I thought this was surprisingly beautiful too, and particularly with the dead eye in the middle as contrast. Some days I am overjoyed at the things I think are beautiful and how they jump up and demand to be captured. And I am so happy to share.
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