A GLOW, LOW AND SILENT Animation: Corinne Heath

Animation by Corinne Heath
You Tube Channel Here: http://www.youtube.com/user/corheath
Corinne Heath Website Here:
http://www.corinneheath.com/

Poetry by Eric Prendergast, Bio Here: http://drawingofghosts.com/page10.html
from the chapbook of poetry, INFRASTRUCTURE.

INFRASTRUCTURE is the first published chapbook of poetry by Eric Prendergast. The collection examines in intimate
narrative the skeletal abstracts--social, psychological, and
symbolic--that support the flesh of our reality. Together, the
poems argue that the ideas that underlie our world are as
solid and essential as the industries that give it function.

The first line of this poem, "This little light of mine," is an intentional allusion to the spiritual of the same name.

The lines of the second stanza,

"I've been smoking it, the anticipation,
clutched carefully between yellowing fingers,
I've been inhaling and exhaling the possibility of you."

were composed with an eye to the beauty I found in an image contained in the song "Morrow" by Ani Franco. My gratitude to this artist for the inspiration, and to Cat Snyder for introducing me to this particular song.

The lines of the third stanza,

"Air goes in and out,
Blood goes round and round,
Any variation on this is bad."

are an aphorism told to me by my father, Edward Prendergast, an oncologist.

Voice: Buzz Kemper Website: http://www.buzzkemper.com/page.asp?pgid=500010001


A GLOW, LOW AND SILENT
POEM BY ERIC PRENDERGAST

This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it smolder to the filter
and drop the butt of hope to the pavement,
where there's no worry of forest fire,
or forest.

I've been smoking it, the anticipation,
clutched carefully between yellowing fingers.
I've been inhaling and exhaling the possibility of you.
You're very average.
Unremarkable, except to say
that you light up only when drunk,
and down glass after glass of regret in the morning.

Air goes in and out.
Blood goes round and round.
Any variation on this is bad.
But a little nicotine never killed anyone
right away.

There's the rush of desperation
and the afterglow of self-pity.
It's a social addiction.
My friends and I, we stand shivering
in back alleys or on cramped porches
sucking up stories of infatuation gone awry.
But we never smoke in mixed company
or in public
or with our families
or in the bathroom,
trading cigarettes through glory holes.

It's a health hazard.
And besides, bad enough they can smell it on us.

We could prolly break the habit
in pieces,
scattered through life to remind us of this highly human need.
Which, if you think about it,
is hardly an improvement on where we are now,
gathering the crust of potential, flakes of longing
scraped into crumpled plastic bags,
saved up for the next smoke break, waiting,
waiting for a light

Category:

Film & Animation

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