fic: "the man but not the light" (hockey)
Final chapter of the quote-unquote narrative arc of the "Pretty" series.
the man but not the light
Geno/Ekblad, Jagr/Ekblad
I was going to do a big writeup about this story and my process and thoughts and whatnot, but who honestly cares, it's there in the text or it's not.
This is the poem I took the series' titles from:
THE WAY THE LIGHT REFLECTS
The paint doesn’t move the way the light reflects,
so what’s there to be faithful to? I am faithful
to you, darling. I say it to the paint. The bird floats
in the unfinished sky with nothing to hold it.
The man stands, the day shines. His insides and
his outsides kept apart with an imaginary line-
thick and rude and imaginary because there is
no separation, fallacy of the local body, paint
on paint. I have my body and you have yours.
Believe it if you can. Negative space is silly.
When you bang on the wall you have to remember
you’re on both sides of it already but go ahead,
yell at yourself. Some people don’t understand
anything. They see the man but not the light,
they see the field but not the varnish. There is no
light in the paint, so how can you argue with them?
They are probably right anyway. I paint in his face
and I paint it out again. There is a question
I am afraid to ask: to supply the world with what?
[Richard Siken]
The Dreamwidth copy of this post has
comments. Comment there or here, as you like!
the man but not the light
Geno/Ekblad, Jagr/Ekblad
I was going to do a big writeup about this story and my process and thoughts and whatnot, but who honestly cares, it's there in the text or it's not.
This is the poem I took the series' titles from:
THE WAY THE LIGHT REFLECTS
The paint doesn’t move the way the light reflects,
so what’s there to be faithful to? I am faithful
to you, darling. I say it to the paint. The bird floats
in the unfinished sky with nothing to hold it.
The man stands, the day shines. His insides and
his outsides kept apart with an imaginary line-
thick and rude and imaginary because there is
no separation, fallacy of the local body, paint
on paint. I have my body and you have yours.
Believe it if you can. Negative space is silly.
When you bang on the wall you have to remember
you’re on both sides of it already but go ahead,
yell at yourself. Some people don’t understand
anything. They see the man but not the light,
they see the field but not the varnish. There is no
light in the paint, so how can you argue with them?
They are probably right anyway. I paint in his face
and I paint it out again. There is a question
I am afraid to ask: to supply the world with what?
[Richard Siken]
The Dreamwidth copy of this post has
comments. Comment there or here, as you like!