"Tomas Transtromer seemed to have unusual access to this membrane between this world and some other world that, as Paul Eluard said, is also in this one. Trastromer, in his poetry, keeps slipping into that space." - Teju Cole
From the Snowmelt of '66
Rushing rushing water's rumbling old hypothesis.
The river's flooding the car-graveyard, glittering
behind the masks.
I grab hold of the bridge railing.
The bridge: a large iron bird sailing past death.
by Tomas Transtromer from Bright Scythe (2015)
For today's prompt: Consider a membrane that separates two worlds in your own experience and explore that duality - maybe the window through which you now watch the world during self-quarantine?
Bonus: After writing about this membrane or duality in your experience, play with modeling after the poem above, using even the same punctuation and lineation if possible, to create a new syntax for your writing.
Be brave and share your writing in the comment section! You can read my response to this prompt there, too : )
1 comment:
One Week In by Karen A. Terrey
After "From the Snowmelt of ’66" by Tomas Transtromer
Rolling, rolling the entire lit range and its alphabet.
Through your window to the pass, dampening
beyond our backs.
Both of us curled in your sunroom, Are you okay?
you ask. (Would my answer be true
tomorrow?) And right there in the stony
hillside, the white N for Nevada.
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