Listening to Cicadas, I See Charlottesville (Ghazal, with recording)

 

 

Listening to Cicadas, I See Charlottesville (Ghazal)

Shedding one coat, you live in the red, apart
from the rest. Never together, forever apart.

In this sun-drenched field, the cracks drill deeper,
wider, dribbling soil and small lives, expanding, apart.

What falls truer than any words released from this man?
Once divided, never again to touch, always apart.

The electric shrill fluctuates pitch, in unison. Hundreds
of tymbals, shredding dusk, now together, then apart.

You narrow your eye to a slit, but still see the entire
spectrum. Wing clicks, stridulation. Whole yet apart.

Shearing syllables, I learn the language of half-truth.
What is my name? I reach for that fragment. It falls apart.

 

 

6 thoughts on “Listening to Cicadas, I See Charlottesville (Ghazal, with recording)

  1. Great recording! Your vocals turn observation into drama – emphasis on certain syllables ups the impact – as do the pauses. (Just reading any poem I insert a few pauses, never a clue where the poet would’ve put them. Recordings are wonderful – keep doing these!!)

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thanks, Jazz. To me pauses often reflect what falls naturally to the ear and/or breath. My line breaks are generally deliberate, and often indicate a pause, though sometimes they’re a response to line length. I’ve been writing in blocks lately, which is quite different from writing in couplets, as there are no stanzas, no blank spaces to indicate possible silences/pauses. And the type of poem also plays into this. Some blocks can be expansive, whereas others are compressed. I say this, but poetry is still a mystery to me, even after decades at it. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

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