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He's There, Somehow, Biting Through the Whispers of Dreams.

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Below is the poem entitled He's There, Somehow, Biting Through the Whispers of Dreams. which was written by poet JeanMarie Marchese. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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He's There, Somehow, Biting Through the Whispers of Dreams.

I know he's been there

Somewhere in between the palm of my hand and the unwritten corners of last week...

I know he's seen me, tip-toeing over the shadows that felt misplaced in his mother's
hallway, the darkness contradicting the way I kissed him, the way he whispered...

the way I cried.


My calves can't handle this and I'm desperate to return to something

skinny

like the way my fingers fumble on buttons that should have never become undone and I
swear, my blue jeans are older now, they've lost their pride as the mirrors that reflect
me laugh upon the lilts of dishonesty, 

and now I feel less than important, despite the crawling of my skin and the knowledge that
his lips

have rested there.


I'm perfect when the pages warp, when Webster falls asleep and dreams, when surrealism
flashes her sparkling smile across dictionary pages and the stain of irrationality

creeps

over my cheeks,

I'm terrified of silence yet I stay inside myself, I wrap my mind in thought and mutter
insensibilities occasionally, I discover the warmth inside my stomach when fear attempts
to bite me, and I turn a little to my left to find him, breathing,

behind the shadows

watching me.


My palms are clammy, I've picked up memories and clenched onto them for far too long, I've
let them drop and shatter and studied their destruction, but I've looked up when I've been
raking the earth of inability for hours and I see him, 

smiling,

holding irrationality in between his sparkling teeth

and I'm perfect, somehow,

in these tangles

of

my

hair.


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  1. Date: 9/19/2009 9:42:00 PM
    I loooove these lines: "I'm perfect when the pages warp, when Webster falls asleep and dreams, when surrealism/ flashes her sparkling smile across dictionary pages and the stain of irrationality"...terrific! Outstanding, my friend. Ruben.

  1. Date: 1/22/2009 7:48:00 PM
    you sweet thing. you are beautiful and will always be so. the reason you are so upset is your estrogen is still up and that drives your thyroid down and there fore the wt. is still stalking you. i love you .... janetta.

  1. Date: 1/10/2009 3:14:00 AM
    There is some great writing here that reminds me of Ginsberg long lines. The images of self are captured well, creating a turmoil within the narrative that allows the reader to become involved. Enschewing self-pity, the poem comes over as a sort of reportage, albeit a very literate one. I'm not sure that seperating the last three words actually does anything for the poem and having them as one line may work better.

  1. Date: 1/9/2009 8:14:00 AM
    What a marvelous but haunting poem. So well written, but with deep tones of mystery. ~ Carrie