7-7-7

[Blythe]

Index!

November
1 - Earth Tones
2 - Ghost in the Graveyard:Calling Ghost edition
3 - Wet
4- Oh No
5 - 11-11
6 - The Beach
7 - Failure

December
1 - Glamis
2. The Long Lost Friend (Magic Words)

[Blythe]

Earth Tones

I dig deep for the sound of direction.
The clefs of separation provide lines
for me to lie along, align my arms
in a clap of supplication, knee caps
flatten on the fault lines; yours; mine;
depressions ring shallow and belie depth.
I have no map – of course – no one does.
But I covet the tools that some carry, like a compass
or a legend, I want to engrave them
on my skin, the needle plumbing each pierce
with a tattoo buzz. That’s the sound
that will remind me: stay true.

[Maggie Lawson]

This is lovely, Blythe. I kept thinking of ley lines as I read this.

regards Maggie

[Donner]

Hi, Blythe, good to see you for a Sevens.

"Earth Tones" demonstrates your usual skill with sonics and mood. I like how N feels like she lacks a natural way with relationships that others seem to have, that she has to work at finding the "map" to hers and envies how others seem to have the tools that she doesn't - but she instinctively knows that one has to dig deep and listen.

Donner

[Sorella]

Blythe!
Long time no see, and a very happy reunion with your poetry. I read Earth Tones several times last night, in awe of the shades, the connections, the canvas you fill with overtones, undertones, layers. A relationship, a globe, geology and lines, lines.
Something reminds me of the mystery of William Stafford, the way you blend senses: 'the sound of direction' is lovely.

Sorella

[Blythe]

It is good to be here, old friends. I can't say how much I appreciate you being here and reading. Honestly it's almost an amulet that I need to carry right now. So, thank you.

[Blythe]

Ghost in the Graveyard: Calling Ghost edition

Flick on our night suits, flashlight radar
a pie cut against the night crust.

We know the rules: don’t answer to your own
name; your identity pulls you to the grave

and then you’re It; It sits on a pyre
of Its victims, never lit. It

is beautiful. A face of flowers,
sea-flowers – brilliant petals against the night sky.
Water lilies. Lily pads.

But then you’re caught in frog-weed, siren
blaring: ollie ollie ossenfree

Return to home base. Final rule:
your voice has no body. Follow it.

[GreaterMandalaofUselessness]

Hi Blythe,

Good to see you in Sevens.

Earth Tones -- 'if music be the food of love ...'.This reads to me a lot like a prayer, even though it seems to be addressed to a beloved. The N has faith that there is music and direction to be found in her relationship (but I also get the sense that this is the case in life in general too). This faith persists even though the N lacks instruments that would show her that direction, but still the faith also needs reinforcing, remembering, to be tattooed. I really like that the sound the N needs to be reminded of this, the buzz of the tattoo machine, is the least musical sound here, and the most painful.

Ghost in the Graveyard: Calling Ghost edition. I don't know this game, but I'm sure played something roughly similar. I'm guessing calling the ghost's name is a tactic to trick them to reveal their hiding place? Here the game seems to take on a slightly sinister tone. I like the result, though I'm not quite following the subtext. Love the last line.

-Matt

[Donner]

Hi, Blythe,

I wasn't familiar with this particular game, so I looked up the rules and found it's a variation of similar hide-and-seek games we used to play. (We always yelled ollie ollie oxen free, but I'm sure there are many variations of that, too.) I really liked your descriptions through S3L1 - "flick on our night suits", "flashlight radar / a pie cut" (perfect), "identity pulls you", the capitalization of "It", making it even more ominous. The "face of flowers" and the word "siren" in S5L1 recalls the beautiful but deadly creatures that lured sailors to their destruction. I wasn't sure about the reason for including the sea-flowers, the water lilies and lily pads, unless they're describing the location of the game, maybe being played around a pond. You end it nicely.

Donner

[Blythe]

Thank you Matt and Donner!
Point taken about the plants, Donna. It is a little bit of mixed metaphor (or a lot bit.) I'm playing around with these childhood games and Ghost in the Graveyard is a really good autumnal one, so I'll be touching back on it.
xoxo

[Blythe]

Everything is wet
in the middle of the night
my pillow
my underwear
the cricket filled air
on the hurricane panes.

[Sorella]

The Ghost -- eerie, imagery to mull over, atmosphere to spook anyone, yet beautiful, about the human condition, I thought.
A keeper.

The hurricane poem is wet on the page, even on my screen, how did oyu do that?

More please!

Sorella

[Maggie Lawson]

Hi Blythe,

I came back and read Earth Tones several more times. You have such a presence in that one, a yearning or an ache that is quite palpable. It feels spiritual, which is why ley lines came to me the first time around but I think this is more about feeling lost, directionless, disconnected, and the associated weariness of 'try, try, again'.

The Ghost poem does a great job of showing how much kids love to scare the sh*t out of themselves! The capitalisation of 'It' creeped me out as I've read Stephen King's book by that name and saw the movie (the book was way WAY scarier).

I very happy that we don't have hurricanes here but even without that experience I know what it feels like to wake soaked through from hot humid nights that feel like you're wrapped beneath a cling-film sky. I love how you brought that image to me so succinctly.

regards Maggie

[Blythe]

Y'all, I woke up thinking about the wet underwear in this poem and was like, oh geez that comes across so weird! I think I had a little extra wine than I needed. Anyway, thanks for not making me feel like an oddball about that line, haha.

Seriously though, thank you for reading and for your comments.

[Donner]

Hi, Blythe,

I've never experienced a hurricane, but if it's anything like going through night sweats? No thank you. Heh. Nothing could be more uncomfortable than a wet pillow and being soaked down to your underwear. And you conveyed it with great economy of words.

Donner