Uneasy Observation

I rarely dabble with any type of narrative verse (nor anything quite this lengthy), but after a recent visit to an art venue that put me rather ill at ease, I felt that a description was warranted. Though probably unnecessary, I’ve included scans of the notebook I had on hand while I was there as well as my “official” poetry journal, since I’m looking to track the creative process for this month’s works. Number 26:

collective0

collective1 collective2

The experience
quickly became a list
of confusing,
undesirable sensations.
I found myself uneasy,
uncomfortable,
out of my element
in an alien atmosphere
that smelled dusty
and unfinished.
It was only just
too cold:
if I didn’t move my toes,
the anxiety crept in
from the cool, uneven
concrete floors
that spanned the soles
of other awkward feet
shuffling through the room’s
hard mood.
Though I tried to read
the walls,
nervous preoccupation
only showed me disrepair:
loose cords grew like vines
from new paint on old trim
while sad strips of black duct tape
clung desperately to
old paint on older walls
smudged by dirty fingers.
Those same hands
might have dragged
the ugly rugs
over more electric weeds
sprouting from the hard drive
of anachronism
at the cracked room’s
buzzing center.
My heavy head
and tired eyes cringed
at dated typeface
on faded signs,
loose particle board
and sealing foam peering
back at me,
“You are no Adonis either.”
I felt unwelcome,
though somehow obligated
to be there
in this out-of-joint
collective,
every bit
as aloof as I was.

Yet under it all
or perhaps through it
or in spite of it
there was the scent
of potential:
this space
had tried so hard,
I finally saw.
It wanted to be
a place of class
and warmth
and culture
and sharing,
but it tumbled
and fell short
when it saw how
uncomfortable we were,
when it heard
our criticism,
when artists and audience
left the building
and judges sat down
in their cold, rigid seats
to watch,
with suspicious eyes,
their spectacles.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s