I really need your help with this unfinished piece. Is there interest? Is there cohesion? Where is there too much confusion? Would the poem benefit from more form? Thank you in advance.
I.
In myself, when Paul called, a loss for adequate reply yawned
below the flimsy words that Paul called upon to express the bad fact,
the immediate objects as Pierce would have it, the representations, the signs
of the dynamical object: a pancreas that is, now, completely a tumor.
How this reference to the guts of his father makes me know—
know in a movement like striking—how ridiculous a telephone is,
and how useless a sentence of words -(“Oh, I’m sorry”),
to be walking up the stair in socks—
who ever could have thought a second floor, a rug, a shoe,
necessities?
II.
In my own father, the hair grows wispy and parts,
with a fineness like the thinness in a cloud, reveals
a mystery is on the other side. I don’t know much at all about
these animal bodies that keep us as their pets,
these animal bodies we tend until they die.
What is it that makes the pate shine?
III.
In ourselves, the signs of our animal selves are printed, but people-fur
being unlike that of a tiger, unconfined to zoo and picture book,
seems less than beautiful. In fact I was amazed, I scrutinized
I was moved, my stomach lurched in delight when I saw my sister’s eye
brows finally unplucked. The fan of individual dark hairs
so different from what I’d seen in magazines.
It was a sheaf of wheat, it was a beauty
that only could have grown.
IV.
In the bedroom, we no longer can perceive
human bodies through the stencils of clothes,
sectioned off by color and printed matter, ruled
muscle-charts mislead us; they look nothing like meats.
And what name for the side of your neck
where I put my face and let my world go dark?
V.
In going out-of-doors, even when the sky is white with impending storm,
even when the grass is dun where it lays
in large swathes, it soothes the eye, it slows the mind,
to view for moments in a row at the speed of a person walking
these expanses of sameness.
What I see of the world is the shape of my eyeholes,
what I see of myself is the breeze, my whiskers trembling.
VI.
In my own theorizing I conclude
it is the respites from confusion,
it is these vastnesses—of color or darkness, of time
spent gazing at a face or a feeling—these true us to our bodies.
As even a small theory is needlessly wide,
I’m sure Paul will want to crumple this one
and throw it in the gutter and keep his face in city clutter.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I think this is a delicate, beautiful poem that deals smoothly with complex issues--you have such subtlety in the way you handle and put words to those inexpressible ideas. I love the way the word pancreas is braided into the poetic language so that, though I couldn't have imagined it, it doesn't stick out.
The first section is so powerful, and then you go right into the ironic tone of section two: "these animal bodies that keep us as their pets" Still, there, you're hitting on something so exact, about the mind-body dichotomy and all it's implications about age and death, and so much more. It really resonates. I have to say that "What is it that makes the pate shine?" didn't get me as much, it seemed almost a little too dark for where its is placed, because the following section, section three, also carries some of the same tone--precise feeling, but awareness that your subject matter is indeed an eyebrow. The sense of that tone specifically comes through to me when I read "In fact I was amazed, I scrutinized/I was moved, my stomach lurched in delight." That exaggeration keeps the reader balanced between the emotive response that the lines evoke and the somewhat playfulness of the images themselves.
Section four is done, perfect as is--"meats" is one of Lila's favorite words and it really proves its merit here. Also Travis loved "the neck part."
Section five is more general and pulls away a little bit from the extreme close-ups of the first three stanzas, and I think it works, sort of works as the turn of a poem, where you re-orientate the reader.
The language in the first stanza of that section is not quite as strong--I love "the grass is dun where it lays" but "it soothes the eye, it slows the mind" and "expanses of sameness" don't have the same evocative power for me. But the little couplet at the end is truly delightful.
Now, section 6: Scrap the last three lines. I was really mesmorized by the first stanza--"of time/spent gazing at a face or a feeling—these true us/ to our bodies." It would be the right way to end I think. The last three lines lose some of the intensity by switching tone again.
I think this is really something great, and there's interest and cohesion. If you want to make it tighter, there are parts where you could cut down on the language, but honestly I don't think you're risking confusion.
h
Post a Comment