Another Mistaken Anima
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About this ebook
Another Mistaken Anima is a poetry collection by Alexander Thorne inspired by other underground poets.
The collection is split into five sections; each with their own length and theme. These themes cover broad subjects such as death, nature, and family.
Alexander Thorne
Alexander Thorne was born in 1989 and spends most of his time living in western Michigan. His submitted work has appeared in the e-magazine Phoenix Lore, the short fiction and poetry collection There Are Monsters Everywhere, and in news articles from the Western Herald. His self-published poetry chapbooks are entited Another Mistaken Anima and People I Can't or Won't Have Another Conversation With.Email me at:azrael2112314@gmail.com
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Another Mistaken Anima - Alexander Thorne
Acknowledgements
This poetry collection is dedicated to my parents.
I'd like to thank David Bain, Michelle Bonczek, Shannon Jonas, Brittany Kay Lee, Allie Levitin, Michael David Marshall, Conor McShane, Tyler Meese, Cody Morris, Avi Sotonzadeh, Aaron Sternaman, and Shana Wolstein for helping me put together these poems—without them I could not have done this.
I'd also like to thank the late Thomas James for all his written inspiration.
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.
-George Santayana
A Poem That Says Hello
The bony hand is waving.
Clouds are hard as rock.
The sun shines as something nuclear.
The strong trees green in increments,
Then wither. Cat fur whitens
In wet weather. The moon spreads
Over the fountain, thick and serene.
Up the hospital stairs:
The moon is merely a fingernail; it enlightens
Those that are dead, walking out of here
Through their shut doors. The morning papers
Go unnoticed by most others.
That same distance is full of dragons,
bad card store nonfiction, death
Glorified as an old friend.
In a campus convenience store, through revolving
Years,
The man missing an appendix has memorized
His mother's last smile. A brand-new script
For an old film. His stomach is
Riddled with holes. The acidic organ
Is a punctured whale. He walks
In his black, professional jacket,
Badges to be recognized, the mark
Of knowledge. They bring him
Paychecks on time
That are a step away from being blood-soaked.
Once a woman lied away
In an ER. Widowlike,
She curls in her bed and waits,
The victim of vodka disguised as water. Her
skin grew yellower, the rain
Spattered across the window. The tongue
Slackened. The gloved hands of doctors
Couldn't disturb her perfect sleep.
Mother, friend, most lost of wives.
In the Hospital
The doctors came so fast.
But it is clear that there is no way out
Of avoiding this damage.
They cannot stop it with all their hands.
I have to say goodbye now.
I'll wait here while they try to save you.
I want you to know
That I've been storing up my concerns also.
You see, they can only slow your short body
With their believable chemicals
Or fill you up with their average food.
Sometimes they even recommend
Your son to massage you where you need
Or all of that water
That makes your liver work through less.
As I watch you lay down,
I want to stand on my back porch
Where the sun is dying
And feel the delicate wind blowing
Across my shoulders
Just as a tornado starts to form.
But my body is full of traveled roads
Where it is impossible
For the drugged aspect within me
To lose herself.
Now she is wavering by a ditch,
And I am afraid of what she might see.
Here in the hospital
Everything is different.
The illnesses of everyone else
Heal with a kind of mockery,
I have watched the bright eyes of an egg-headed baby
Turn from blue to brown
Whether it was in or out of my arms.
But now you are going way from me,
And I understand that this business will never be done.
They are unplugging your body, wrapped in blankets,
Into a quiet room
Where the thick walls wait continually
And your pieces are removed from your puzzle.
Clothes on the Floor
This night I remembered
How my mother's skin yellowed one year
And then stopped changing color.
A woman is coming through the