Listen. (from The Puzzle Box.)

July 30, 2008 at 6:53 pm | In writing | 25 Comments
Tags: Paul Squires, writing

Listen. Not to me. On a cool, clear night like this the traffics are louder. They hurrr by like bundles of compressed air whirlywinding someone home. The old man next door has gone to bed. He coughs his awakeness and will soon snore his dream.
This pen pushes black ink across a white page with a jumping, scratching rhythm. These next three dots are not a device they are a drumm roll… This last full stop is a rimshot crack.
The oceans from which you come continue in your breath, hear soft lines rhythm in and curl out. You are a continent composed of dreams, a land of mystery and miracles and your heartbeat I hear as the voice of God entrusting her creation to you. This is not a metaphor nor an allegory nor an image. You are not a story you tell yourself. Your life is not an American Movie. Star light is real and brings the heavens to you to kiss your eyes and in this cold night voices purr in the street as drunkards roll home and cats pursue the objectives of their owners and an old grey muzzle dog’s tail thumps once on a bare wooden floor.
The moon speaks to him in his voice and to you in the voice of your blood and the ocean though miles away moils in each of your cells, salt water in your tears, salt water in your blood coloured by passion and the breathing you hear is not your own, nor mine but the voice of a child a thousand miles away, born before his time and waiting. Waiting for your eternal embrace, your warmth to bring him home and his mother in the clouds of morning, in the ever present sunrise, you can hear her smile in birdsong and in the crackle of dry leaves under bare feet.
Insects sing.
There is no other proof of your existence but this, the sounds that you hear, always, every sound ever alive in the tremor of the tiny bones hidden in your head. Imagine that, the slightest of vibrations creating all this clamour of life which never stops, is always warm and slow, fast and hot and though you may close your eyes you may never close your ears, not even in sleep wherein sounds will form the matter of your dreams.
And though you may close this book forever and never read another word, wordless the world will come to you and reveal itself to you and there is no other proof that you exist but this, that you are beloved of the earth and the creatures around you, insects and stars are quietly harmonising with your breath and the rhythm of the ocean enlivens us all, the moon’s voice is eternal and God whispers lullabies in breezes, rain storms, traffic and there beside you now, the ever present child drawing warmth from the murmur of your heart as it marks the patterns of joy, the echoes of pain, the wheel which never ceases to turn and touching you rolls on, it hurrrs as it turns slowly fading into just you, you alone, surrounded by and singing with the voice of God.

(The Puzzle Box by Paul Squires is available for purchase here.)

25 Comments »

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

ohmy goddess Paul! this is a fantastical piece! it is one to be read and reread, the juicy words savoured… yes, i think this is my favorite to date – full of words playing and the breathe of humanity and our frailty and magnifcence woven throughout it.
Thankyou, Lakota. This one is from my very soon to be released book, so I am glad it is a favourite.

Comment by Lakota — July 30, 2008 #
B-E-A-utiful!
Thankyou, Sumedh. The garden is looking magnificent. When are you going to write another beautiful metaphysical poem?

Comment by Sumedh — July 30, 2008 #
i adore “hurr by” …

i’m smiling inside a wondroustear …

surrendering to a deepwordless sigh … yes,
Thankyou, Shell,

Comment by Shell — July 30, 2008 #
Beautiful, peaceful and positive… Loved it…
I’m very glad that you did.

Comment by Mental Mist — July 30, 2008 #
wow paul this really fantastic. def something i’ll be reading over and over again.
Thankyou Lissa!

Comment by lissa — July 30, 2008 #
it’s the imageries. they are tearing me down with adulation. fading into just you, you alone
Thankyou, Aefiel,

Comment by aefiel — July 30, 2008 #
You are a continent composed of dreams, a land of mystery and miracles and your heartbeat I hear as the voice of God entrusting her creation to you. from your lips to god’s ear. i think so. you write so beautifully it hurts.

sarah
Oh no I don’t want it to hurt, haha. Thankyou Sarah.

Comment by sarah flanigan — July 30, 2008 #
when oh when is the book coming out and can i get you to sign a copy when i buy it prettypretty please?
The book will out very soon, Lakota, within the next week or two. I am going to do a post about it soon. Of course I will scrawl on one for you.

Comment by Lakota — July 31, 2008 #
i love it so much i’m bawling
Oh no, don’t cry. Everything will be alright. Thanks, Tipota.

Comment by tipota — July 31, 2008 #
So uplifted am I, my toes barely tickle the ground. Sounds like this, like you so eloquently arrange restore everything. Thank you for writing!
Your welcome, Kristine. Thanks for your lovely comment. It is always a joy to see you around.

Comment by Kristine — July 31, 2008 #
I Listened… totally. How wonderful this is and how gentle it reads us into some kind of meditative state but at the same time exhilarating us. Exquisite.
Your book – should it be studied, pencil notes to the side, doodles of smiles or questioning pleas? I have a Tennyson book that I studied many years ago (many many years ago) and I have written in it all sorts of things and by The Lady Of Shallot I have drawn a picture of her castle with arrows and little jokes. There are places where I have looked up definitions to remind myself and on one there is just the word ‘favourite’. I think it takes a very special book to interact with the reader so much but I don’t know… something tells me that I would like to keep every page of yours lily-white save for the words written upon it. Maybe I should buy two? hahaha…
Thanks Mary. I am a big for not writing in books. But it will be yours so you can do whatever you wish.

Comment by Mary P — July 31, 2008 #
Hi, Paul.

Reading this was like hearing an angel whisper to me. Thank you. On the heals of my post about listening to my breath, this was especially meaningful.

namaste!
Namaste! gingaTao! Thankyou, Grace, most aptly named,

Comment by Grace — July 31, 2008 #
i love this one, paul. it truly sings like a choir of angels

there’s a moment which called this Ray Carver poem to mind:

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
(from ‘Late Fragment’ in A New Path to the Waterfall)
Cool, that is a similar thought, I will have to read the whole thing. Thankyou,

Comment by artpredator — July 31, 2008 #
actually, that is the whole thing…as i recall, his wife the poet tess gallagher found this in the pocket of his bathrobe after he died…
Wow, that is wonderful, he must have asked himself and answered in the affirmative, i hope i can too,

Comment by artpredator — July 31, 2008 #
Loved it. This is also a favorite of mine. Hope you’re well.
Harmonie, thankyou, i hope you are well.

Comment by harmonie22 — July 31, 2008 #
My dear friend, I have had some good news. My darling neice, she is a beauty and a bit of a tomboy, very athletic, 17, just finished her chemotherapy treatments for Hodgkins lymphoma and got an all clear…now she goes through the radiation for 12 weeks or so. Dang man, I mean 17. She graduated though in a wig… lol I remember reading this piece of yours. You are a great writer Paul, you have a gypsy voice that grinds stained glass to sand.
Ahh, it’s in the genes F.G. Tough, smart, strong, cool, and thankyou,

Comment by Fabian G. Franklin — July 31, 2008 #
itz great to see so much w/one’s eyes closed and never hearing a sound…
Thankyou, that is a lovely comment,

Comment by pieceofpie — August 1, 2008 #
Ummmm…. they’ve just copied and pasted my comment, haha… seems like they had absolutely nothing original to say?

Comment by Mary P — August 1, 2008 #
Ohhh, thank((((((((((((((((((((((you)))))))))))))))))) and sorry I was a mile away, sorry, this is the problem they are so tricky. I will just go back to deleting every bozononhumanoid that links to somewhere dodgy no matter what they say. I was, three or four a week but that one was sneaky, please forgive me,

Comment by Paul — August 1, 2008 #
to me, this is the mot beautiful thing you’ve ever written. at least that i have read.
there are so many details, the deep rhythmic description of the moments unfolding. the first and last tied together so sensationally. and like i said the little things you add here “whirlywinding someone home” …”snore his dream”…” is always warm and slow, fast and hot and though you may close your eyes you may never close your ears” okay i guess if i quote much more, i’ll have quoted nearly it all. but i just find this piece immaculate, deep, sensual, ahh, all the things i love.

Comment by mrs. sarah OTT. — August 1, 2008 #
no ooh, can i comment again? haha, i meant to also tell you that i like the present tense and how you send the reader through the concept, the moment, the look around. i have not myself, mastered this style of prose, its just powerful to me
Thankyou Mrs Ott, you can comment as many times as you like. The first person present tense can be a powerful device,

Comment by mrs. sarah OTT. — August 1, 2008 #
[...] was dead by the time Squires got back to Brisbane carrying the suitcase containing both the film and the fifteen [...]

Pingback by Japanese wave tattoo. « hello — August 24, 2008 #
paul, you should link this to the podcast and vice versa yes?

this is such a marvelous dreammy peace piece sleepy time sigh

Comment by artpredator — September 15, 2008 #
[...] Listen by gingaTao [...]

Pingback by Voices « Mental Mist — November 4, 2008 #
Speechless.

Comment by chittz — July 18, 2009 #