Draft 2 - Going Ghost

[alonso ramoran]

Going Ghost


Awake. Engines whir outside.
Vermilion strobes the room.
Darkness heavy with the bulk of night.

Almost a year spent reciting a script
to strangers, sitting in the same space
where I sleep, staring out the window
at a hollow building
across an empty parking lot. Outside,
crows share with their murder
whatever they discover for collation.
I don't notice my own building
has been empty too,
until another living person
divulges the sacred knowledge. By then,
the body will remember how to see

that the world is forever divulging.
Right now it is already dark.
I observe the bed cannot be made.
On the balcony I smoke. 
This hour so much of the world
becomes shadows and reflections:
lights left on by construction,
neighboring windows of empty rooms.
Everything is shadowed by a genocide.
Is there time to do the laundry.
Can I water the dying bonsai.
Can dust collect another day.

Draft 1 - Going Ghost

Awake. Engines whir outside.
Red lights strobe into the room.
The dark is heavy with the bulk of night.

Almost a year spent reciting a script
to strangers, sitting in the same space
where I sleep, staring out the window
at a hollow building
across an empty parking lot. Crows outside
communicate discovered repasts
with fellows of their murder.
I do not notice my own building
has been empty too,
until another living person
imparts the sacred knowledge. By then
the world will have always been imparting

when the body remembers how to see.
Right now it is already dark. I observe
the bed cannot be made. This hour
so much of the world
becomes shadows and reflections:
lights left on by construction,
neighboring windows of empty rooms.
On the balcony I sip cool coffee and smoke.
Everything is shadowed by a genocide.
Is there time to do the laundry.
Can I water the rotting bonsai.
Can dust collect another day.

[Bunx]

Awake. Engines whir outside.
Red lights strobe into the room.
The dark is heavy with the bulk of night. Could use "darkness here" it could illude to morality.

Almost a year spent reciting a script
to strangers, sitting in the same space
where I sleep, staring out the window
at a hollow building
across an empty parking lot. Crows outside
communicate discovered repasts
with fellows of their murder.
I do not notice my own building
has been empty too,
until another living person
imparts the sacred knowledge. By then
the world will have always been imparting 

when the body remembers how to see. This statement is heavy and mysterious. I feel pretty drawn to its nature. 
Right now it is already dark. I observe
the bed cannot be made. This hour
so much of the world
becomes shadows and reflections:
lights left on by construction,
neighboring windows of empty rooms.
On the balcony I sip cool coffee and smoke.
Everything is shadowed by a genocide.
Is there time to do the laundry.
Can I water the rotting bonsai.
Can dust collect another day.

Thank you for sharing this poem. I wish I could offer more constructive feedback. The themes are heavy and important. I feel like you illustrate the reality of life during genocide vividly. The poem has a consistent tone and style. I could see it being read a few ways but in my opinion it benefits from the descriptive language and present tense. 

Thanks again

[wasellajam]

Hi, Alonso, an intriguing piece well done, a few notes:

Awake. Engines whir outside.
Red lights strobe into the room.
The dark is heavy with the bulk of night. Strong opening, mood set.

Almost a year spent reciting a script
to strangers, sitting in the same space
where I sleep, staring out the window
at a hollow building
across an empty parking lot. Crows outside
communicate discovered repasts "communicate" seems too cold for me, even though the language suits the chill of the poem it doesn't evoke the sound, "broadcast" comes to mind but you'll think of something if you agree.
with fellows of their murder.
I do not notice my own building
has been empty too,
until another living person
imparts the sacred knowledge. By then
the world will have always been imparting

when the body remembers how to see. I'm not sure about "when", I have trouble putting the sentence together.
Right now it is already dark. I observe
the bed cannot be made. This hour
so much of the world
becomes shadows and reflections:
lights left on by construction,
neighboring windows of empty rooms.
On the balcony I sip cool coffee and smoke. The movement of this line is an effective change to the familiar.
Everything is shadowed by a genocide.
Is there time to do the laundry.
Can I water the rotting bonsai. It's too much water that will rot a bonsai, did you intend that?
Can dust collect another day.

Thanks for posting these interesting poems and for the critiques you've given others, all good reading.

[alonso ramoran]

Bunx,

Thank you for your comments. I liked your suggestion for the third line, as you can tell

---

wasellajam,

I was in the process of editing when I saw your post and I was glad to see I seemed to be on the right track as I was adjusting the same lines that you had comments for. I did rearrange some lines, so I'm hoping it flows better. "Rotting" bonsai was also a good catch. Not intentional at all. Thank you for reading!