I was reminded recently, by what, I couldn’t say, of something that I knew in the past, namely that reading poetry silently in one’s head is like experiencing a song by reading sheet music and lyrics. It’s missing a crucial component. So here’s a bit of an experiment that I hope to replicate going forward with me doing my best to just read the poem based on its sense and meter while not gilding the lily with any theatrics.
Out of the fog that blankets morning cold,
A land of grass in mist enveloped whole,
A sea of cloud traversed by tree-top sails,
A figure lies so dark, disturbed yet still.
Its hooves splayed out, the deer’s slender neck bends
Unnaturally, horns touching its back.
Its lifeless eyes keep silent watch unblinking,
A canvas filled with one’s own self-censure and
Reproach as if one’s failed salvation is
Akin to striking death’s most fatal blow.
Adam Writes 
Yes!. Fuck yes. I love the addition of the reading – somehow it brought your already vibrant imagery to life – or to life just before dying. Well done.
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Haha, thanks!
I’m glad it helped emphasize the imagery. Hearing it almost feels more like listening to a story rather than a poem.
I’m pretty proud of “bends / unnaturally” which uses the line break and enjambment to emphasize the imagery. I like how you can get something different from either reading or hearing it.
As for “life just before dying”, not to ruin the mystique, but it’s amazing how creatively inspiring roadkill on a foggy day can be.
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