Staircase Recognition Poem by Denis Mair
Staircase Recognition
Someone greeted me at the stoplight last night. I scanned the traffic for the source of voice. I walked past the idling vehicle, did not look closely, spoke the pleasantry 'drop by.'
Twilight does funny things with faces. Her hair so different from an earlier time. I let myself forget a fawn that once had once taken alarm. I had dropped my book off at her workplace, on an awkward whim, but only as fuel for walking. Maybe. I was simply eager to share my words; no intentions were intended.
Last night the demons of an evening walk engulfed me. Intestines were being churned by my time of life. I'm learning to look normal, yet swim in ANOMIE.
Whatever else, she blurted out a halloo to someone haggard. Whatever else, the face was soulful, its substance worth engaging.
I could kick myself for shying away from someone who had called herself disturbed. Let me live in the thick of a moment, where recognition gives the best medicine it can.
A fawn, not a tigress! A wonder-beast had gotten caught in a trap, twisting to preserve herself. May compassion show itself by reaching out in time. If there were ever anything images could do, let them work for me now!
Having made some sense of it, I coined the similar phrase STAIRCASE RECOGNITION, meaning that one doesn't recognize someone until one is already walking away from an encounter.
Anomie, also spelled anomy, in societies or individuals, a condition of instability resulting from a breakdown of standards and values or from a lack of purpose or ideals.........thus spake Google! (to be continued) ...
Those guys who write definitions are real wordsmiths. I share your appreciation for what they do. There is so much amazing self-digestion of language in a dictionary! I should put a dictionary next to the toilet, but I'm usually preoccupied.
i recognise faces but am terrible with names(not a product of ageing) and my diffident nature hasYou do get often precluded me from following up a surprise encounter with a face from the past. You do get a feeling of regret and self-imposed isolation. It's one of the most interesting poems I've read in a long time, Denis.
I am glad you picked up on the feeling. I used to wonder about the phrase STAIRCASE WIT. When the title of this poem popped into my head, I realized that I already had a tentative understanding. I saw an image of myself: a light bulb coming on in my head as I stood on a stair landing outside of the party of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 5:40:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
the left my book part particularly puzzled me. i have an inkling of what this might all mean. the topics section gives me clues. but staircase? did i miss it? oh, probably some symbolism! ! let me peek at another poem here. bri :)
Your question about STAIRCASE prompted me to clarify. See my poet's comment above. As for LEAVING MY BOOK...I signed my poetry book and left it for her (at her workplace) . Later I heard she thought I was acting like a weirdo. I was embarrassed and felt like a fool, so I didn't get in touch with her again. A few weeks later, she greeted me at a traffic light while I was out walking. I didn't know what to say to her. I wasn't TRYING to write obscurely, honest!