cleaning both sides
of the sliding glass door–
bird song
—Brad Bennett
On a literal sense, its horizontal (surface meaning) axis, we have a clear setting up of imagery, with the author both indoors yet outdoors: He's able to hear birdsong because he's opened up the sliding doors for a regular clean up.
In a metaphorical level we probably have various layers of meaning in the vertical axis yet my first reading is as clear as he's making those glass doors. The author has shifted his perception from an internal mental or work attitude, and pushed the sliding door(s) open to hear and experience the world beyond his everyday existance.
I love the physicality and sensory character of this work by Brad Bennett.
Having cleaned my share of glass sliding doors, the poem immediately brought to mind past encounters with the vast expanse of glass. Armed with Windex spray and paper towels, the task is approached with large sweeping wipes alternating with smaller circles. I wonder if the poet sees the birdlike character of those arm movements – like flapping of wings?
The more I think about the experiences, my memories become sharper, clearer and images crystallize as if wiping away a layer of mental grime: the act of breathing onto a patch of almost-clean glass and creating a condensation fog, then briskly finishing it off, I hear the clean glass window begin to sing… or is that birdsong?
Rereading the poem again, with these new images fresh in mind, I put a mental comma after the first word, "cleaning", because now both sides of the sliding glass window I hear birdsong.
And I am struck that sitting inside, looking out through that now almost invisible glass, I am still actually the one in a cage.
A wonderful poem evoking a wonderful set of experiential memories, as well as prompting existential contemplation. Brilliant!
The author seems to be poised at a point exactly half way between the indoor and outdoor world. I imagine him with a cleaning cloth in each hand, making circles on the glass on each side, perhaps singing along with the birds who are close by. Nice. :)
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July 15th, 2013 at 8:48 am
the smudge
I can't clean off the window
cirrus cloud
July 15th, 2013 at 9:56 am
cleaning both sides
of the sliding glass door–
bird song
—Brad Bennett
On a literal sense, its horizontal (surface meaning) axis, we have a clear setting up of imagery, with the author both indoors yet outdoors: He's able to hear birdsong because he's opened up the sliding doors for a regular clean up.
In a metaphorical level we probably have various layers of meaning in the vertical axis yet my first reading is as clear as he's making those glass doors. The author has shifted his perception from an internal mental or work attitude, and pushed the sliding door(s) open to hear and experience the world beyond his everyday existance.
Excellent work.
Alan, With Words
July 15th, 2013 at 10:03 am
ill all day…
a crime novel
in both rooms
Alan Summers
Publications credits: Blithe Spirit vol. 17 no.1 (2007); Haiku Friends Vol 2 ed. Masaharu Hirata (Umeda, Osaka 2007); Disclaimer, (Bath Spa University, 2008); haijinx vol. III issue 1 (2010); Day’s End: Poetry and Photography about aging (2011)
July 16th, 2013 at 4:07 am
I love the physicality and sensory character of this work by Brad Bennett.
Having cleaned my share of glass sliding doors, the poem immediately brought to mind past encounters with the vast expanse of glass. Armed with Windex spray and paper towels, the task is approached with large sweeping wipes alternating with smaller circles. I wonder if the poet sees the birdlike character of those arm movements – like flapping of wings?
The more I think about the experiences, my memories become sharper, clearer and images crystallize as if wiping away a layer of mental grime: the act of breathing onto a patch of almost-clean glass and creating a condensation fog, then briskly finishing it off, I hear the clean glass window begin to sing… or is that birdsong?
Rereading the poem again, with these new images fresh in mind, I put a mental comma after the first word, "cleaning", because now both sides of the sliding glass window I hear birdsong.
And I am struck that sitting inside, looking out through that now almost invisible glass, I am still actually the one in a cage.
A wonderful poem evoking a wonderful set of experiential memories, as well as prompting existential contemplation. Brilliant!
On a birdsong theme, here is a recent attempt (and a YouTube link to blow your minds: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VjE0Kdfos4Y)
no reception, but
all heads search unseen caller
– Lyrebird Hollow
Strider
July 18th, 2013 at 5:47 am
on the way home
from the store
wind in the fields
July 26th, 2013 at 2:48 pm
The author seems to be poised at a point exactly half way between the indoor and outdoor world. I imagine him with a cleaning cloth in each hand, making circles on the glass on each side, perhaps singing along with the birds who are close by. Nice. :)
May 27th, 2016 at 4:31 am
Geez, that’s unibbeevalle. Kudos and such.
November 19th, 2016 at 3:17 am
Right.
November 19th, 2016 at 3:17 am
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