Imprints
This week it's two poems that may be one, or vice versa. As always, with a touch of Aphantasia.
I wonder if it’s more as if I hear what I see as if I feel what I see. That I must tell my stories in long lines so I can scratch their imprints on my bones. That should I fail to speak I will lose the words I need to retell what I have witnessed. So I must be deliberate… …Alone with this dry boulder above these maddened waters newly melted by our sun. I stand where it separates, a stone axe splitting the flow. And only those singular fishes that I make slip into my net will I imprint upon my being. After I hold them in my fingers and taste their cold supple flesh.
Thank you for reading. Here’s another poem.
My initial post has more about Aphantasia. Have a look, and the poems might make a different kind of sense.
Glimpses at the Dark
·
March 5, 2025
Please share this with any aphants you might have in your life. I am highly curious to know if any of this resonates with others whose mind’s eyes are dark.
—Alex
Glimpses at the Dark can be delivered every week.