I.
fuck the horse you rode in on, ride
the lightning. fingers ride the blade
edge like thighs on stripper poles. wrap
your fingers in her hair, grab ‘n’ tug,
hold thunder like hips, like shoulders,
like a TSE. spread-eagle in hair, spread
thin, butter on toast, oil on feathers, stuttering
like quarters on china. absorb in darkness,
wet like ink, damp with void, the kind of
darkness age fears. the kind of darkness
that only makes sense huge, that only makes
sense when senseless. play it out like phobic
Kabuki. blade step hari-kari with a pen,
with x’s and o’s, with geometry. promiscuous
with bias like a giant is promiscuous with air.
II.
flee
quick
giants
quickly
approach.
fluctuate
giantesses
snowballing
moth-catchers,
child-catchers,
agriculturally
Caufieldesquely.
superskeletalsex.
III.
not enough holes to hide in, all
the things they don’t teach you on
groundhog day. billy used to
push you facedown in the dirt,
let you taste the earth, what a
simple gift from such an ass.
the act of panther avoidance
is incapable of sustaining metaphor
longer than nine lines. just don’t tell the
panther that.
IV.
I lust for things I do not lust for,
in-between dusty blinks, damp
pervades sheets. If you could be a
sex constellation, which would you
be? a pearl necklace means far
too many uncomfortable things, especially
past midnight. The underside of my chin
bobs like a croaking frog, determining
determinism as though decided. Yelling,
we navigate. compass-less, we divine.
V.
like sledgehammers two-stepping,
I untangle my legs from soft grass.
no sound is softer than the sound
of submission. no one touches
lighter than one who succumbs
to giants. the tiny shall grow and
be tiny again. riddles make hearts
grow found in the winter. like a
colossus, I wrap myself in layers
not to keep warm, but to mask
old healed over knifewounds. gotten
from ill-timed poledances and ill-
gotten losses. like sledgehammers
unraveling, disintegrating, particulating.
giants are no closer to heaven,
they just see more empty sky.
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1 comment:
I.
"the kind of darkness that only makes sense huge." YES! I believe in that statement. It's visceral and imaginable.
The part that comes after, "only makes sense when senseless" - I get it and I'm with you, but it's not as bitchin' so, I don't know that you need it.
II.
"caulfieldesquely" lead me to "superskeletonsex[y]" which may be a little too much of hip-hop induced rhyme, but I personally think it might be cool to end on a rhyme after that - but with the caveat that it might because of the recency effect, the rhyme might be the last of what the reader remembers. However, since the whole thing is so free form, I can't imagine that would hurt too bad. Feel free to argue.
III.
I have to refresh myself on the inner workings of the panther hting as it relates to your poetry to completely grasp the significance of the stanza. In other words, the last half might be too insular.
IV.
"Yelling, we navigate. compass-less, we divine."
See, this is why I love you - because you love words, a lot [among other things]
This line establishes a whole scene for me and makes up for the "like a croaking frog" which is really the most interesting part of that line.
V.
The ending is perfecto. It even encapsulates the way the game feels to me. The giants are huge but in the end, completely mortal and have no real superiority to the main character. I'm rambling, sure, but it really is a good ending.
I'm hoping this isn't too brutal (or conversely, that it's brutal enough). It feels like an authentic Papas piece in a lot of places, but in others, there's some lag that might be a part of the imposed form or might not.
My suggestion, read it back in a week and red pen it.
Overall, I think it and you, are boss.
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