Shadows in daylight and a dance
The shadows of powerlines, scentless, noiseless,
lie long and almost perfectly straight
on the pavement in sunlight. The branches
above them cast their more varied shadows,
tangling themselves in the lines of electrical wires,
all of them pulsing with electricity, shadow and vine,
mushroom and discarded coat hanger.
At night the wood grows wet with hunger.
The powerlines sizzle in midnight dew.
The weather grows strange around
quietly buzzing houses. Peeping toms
begin to see mirrors instead of bodies.
Breezes take on venomous, vivid colors.
And the certain destruction coming for us,
the way it makes us cling together in bed
or when saying goodbye to each other
at the door, and the distance between us
that it creates, is a ballet in the fog.
4 comments:
Hi Bill.
I did like some of "I see Too Little Too Much" (goog title!); I had no idea you were influenced by me in writing it, nor would I have spotted any resemblence if you hadn't mentioned it. But I like particularly the lines
"And I hear the trees screaming in the woodstove
and the cow moaning behind my freezer door"--
That's very visceral and sharp, and nice unpredictable but dream-logical motion from one image to the next.
Of course, I'm probably more drawn to pieces that are radically unlike mine. I think 'Isabella' is the only one I'm using in the upcoming 'Appropriate'. Send me more!
You know what? You're right about the title of "Shadows in daylight..." giving away some of the magic early. A poet should never play their ace in the title. I had been irked by that myself, earlier, but for some reason let it stand. I've changed it, now, so thanks for the advice. I struggle mightily with titles; I find it difficult to name most poems properly, yet they seem incomplete without a good title (then again, Cummings seems to glide magically without titles). So I name them, usually ineptly. I feel like I'm trying to name a beautiful child who I'm only partly responsible for, like any parent, and that anything I come up with won't do their emergence justice.
As for Bush, when I refer to the destruction of language, I'm talking about the destruction of intelligent speech, penetrating speech, speech that has flair and makes one think. When Bush talks, I find it hard to follow him for more than a minute or two without getting either incredibly bored or incredibly irritated, or both. Like every other U.S. president I've heard speak in my lifetime thus far, nothing he says shows any evidence of careful, studious thought, or any desire to provoke that kind of thought. Bush has simply taken his predecessors' destruction of thought-provoking, elegant speech a sinister step further.
Let us continue to be poets, then, and reclaim the beauty of language for our country and our world. Let our incantations roll like replenishing thunder.
energy & glee,
Luke
PS--People may "know what Bush is talking about". But that is not a real compliment, in and of itself. People also understand Madonna's lyrics; yet her words do not provoke brilliance, nor do they enrich her listeners. The most incredible language (I'm thinking of Rilke's 'Sonnets to Orpheus' for example) often takes years to penetrate, but it enriches. It also reaches beyond mere intelligibility to leave one with a sense of wonder.
An intelligent man's speech requires my full attention in order for me to understand, thus sharpening my mind; I can "understand" Bush in my sleep.
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