Faith-Based Option
Don't take this for granted:
glue things down.
A computer terminal
crusted with post-it notes
is ephemeral. The translation
could take years, still leave us
baffled, like crop circles, like
UFOs. Just plug
into the flow.
Don't waste
a moment. Speak
as quickly as you can
before you get married
or abducted.
Flag me a cab. Read me
a testimonial
of recovery in the back seat
while Mohammed takes us west along Division Street.
Remember:
fine-lined tattoos
blur over time.
The skin absorbs ink
as if it's thirsty.
Your name will smudge.
My name will smudge.
Manage solidity. Start anew.
(Some nights I miss you
more than others -- unspeakably,
irreparably, irretrievably.
Last thing
before bed.)
Don't take this for granted:
glue things down.
A computer terminal
crusted with post-it notes
is ephemeral. The translation
could take years, still leave us
baffled, like crop circles, like
UFOs. Just plug
into the flow.
Don't waste
a moment. Speak
as quickly as you can
before you get married
or abducted.
Flag me a cab. Read me
a testimonial
of recovery in the back seat
while Mohammed takes us west along Division Street.
Remember:
fine-lined tattoos
blur over time.
The skin absorbs ink
as if it's thirsty.
Your name will smudge.
My name will smudge.
Manage solidity. Start anew.
(Some nights I miss you
more than others -- unspeakably,
irreparably, irretrievably.
Last thing
before bed.)
Erika Meitner
Opened-Brain Option
Don’t take this for granted:
it is the unique that keeps us interested.
That Donna Karan dress
was worn as an emerald
sheath, its sheer illusion
floating as pelicans do,
jagged and unsure.
In his gait, lazy
heels scrubbed
unnerved passers-by.
Those whispers on the west
side of South Street
elude their disposition
and sit quietly atop the
neglected washing basin,
the mailman as unclean
as this disposal that
grinds the maggot-rot to
shoehorn more untruths.
Understand:
when the slender silhouettes
of the cypresses slant
in protest of the
breeze, drawing
the mouth-line of
uncertainty against
the raven night,
stars dot the eyes
like glitter in the silver
shadowed crevice
below the drawn brow,
his red lips lift into
a “U.”
Disgrace belongs only
to the others.
(Later, the owners
will collect those once
whispers, lie them on
their pillows, with idle
motors— unspeakably
intrigued.
Like Picasso’s,
“Skull and Pitcher.”)
Brandy Adams
First thing, and I hate to start with a semi-strange observation, but “the slender silhouettes / of the cypresses slant / in protest of the / breeze” (21-24) immediately reminded me of Gary Soto’s “Oranges”—I would copy & paste it, but it’s all over the internet. More specifically, it reminded me of a particular image near the beginning of the second stanza where the speaker talks about “fog hanging like old / coats between the trees,” which, while not the same image, to be sure, does deal with an odd observation related to flora and meteorological phenomena…anyway, my biggest idea for a future draft would be to ditch the choppy lines. Meitner’s piece uses it to emphasize each line a bit more, to force the language to do more in a shorter space. The language of your draft just doesn’t seem as direct, as concerned with rapid-fire instruction. Honestly, I think allowing yourself to extend some of the lines should remove a huge barrier that’s in place right now, one that’s forcing the work into a pretty slender container and limiting opportunities for interesting moments of enjambment. Also, I like the pelican, especially its uncertainty, but I don’t know if “jagged” works all that well—I just always sort of pictured a pelican as rounder than any other geometric designation…like he’s got a beer gut strapped to his face.
ReplyDeleteRight-o. So, I was sitting in my office, alone, when I received your response and I literally laughed, then snorted, at this:"I just always sort of pictured a pelican as rounder than any other geometric designation…like he’s got a beer gut strapped to his face." Bulging is it! Thank you, Tim.
ReplyDelete