In the police neglected,
encircled neighborhood,
people showcase their lives
with their front yards,
empty tables,
trampolines, burning barrels,
and a car surplus that
always returns,
coin trays full of
pennies, corroded and forgotten.
Cell phones short circuit
the hollered gossip
that baubles from porch
to porch, littered
with the wrinkled ashes
of yesterday.
Slightly slower
goes Schröd’er’s cat
over backyard fences,
given a new half-life.
After three days,
he is born again
in a black bag.
Now, it’s week three,
and he is still
performing his rounds.
His cries for attention
less vocal, but swarming.
Leisurely,
a young boy, dirty,
shoeless, traces
around the circle
while holding back his siblings
and father on bicycles.
Untethered by the wheels,
he has no idea, yet,
that nonchalance is his means
of storing momentum. And one day,
the circle will lose its fatal attraction
and his line of prints
will bear him
to freedom.
Except for several nicely-crafted phrases, I don’t get this. The phrases schizophrenically jump around. No clear message(s). No clear narrative. Vague allusions. It seems like I am reading someone’s diary that got put through a blender. It takes work to read this sort of poetry and when I’m done, I regret the work.
What I find interesting is that apparently lots of folks love this kind of stuff — don’t know what I am missing. I even read it twice, and still nothing.
Curious: On poetry blogs is there an unwritten ethic that “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it?” (cause I know that ain’t true on other blogs. — Poetry blogs aren’t sacred, are they? I just never read negative comments. Maybe because there are no ideas presented, or ideas aren’t valued or all art is suppose to be cool ….). But I know you handle criticism well. And this really ain’t criticism, just my impression. It is so you can see how some of us mere mortals view things.
This poem is about how difficult it is for people to leave a bad neighborhood, it being like a gravity well. Everything circles the neighborhood, perhaps leaving momentarily, but often returning like the increasing number of vehicles. Gossip also empty,never escapes. Even a half dead cat, referring to Schrodinger’s Cat in a box experiment, can’t escape by dying. Only the boy with a lack of concern with all the crud going on is able to make it out.
I don’t fault you for not getting it. Many don’t, even some (I think) that write it, or I still miss stuff. I didn’t at one time either. Perhaps, it is a state of mind. Many deal better with the literal and concrete.
As for the unwritten ethic on poetry blogs, you make a very valid point. It does seem that way. Reminds me of a Parisian exchange student who couldn’t get why the Amish would live like they do. It is, in the poetry world, a matter of taste. I would make a horrible wine taster.
I do handle criticism well, and I appreciate your honesty. Continue doing what you do well, my friend.
If you didn’t write interesting stuff, I wouldn’t be hitting your blog so often. I know I write some things you enjoy, thanks for following. Don’t feel obligated to comment on everything. I don’t, not enough time in the day for that. I do appreciate the effort and all your comments.
Peace, brother
Myrthryn:
Wow, that really helped.
You handled my comment superbly — thanks. VERY helpful.
Now I know an approach I may use with your poems: On the vague, puzzling ones, I will simply ask you to explain stuff that I don’t understand. Because, as I said, I love many of your phrasings and the images — but when they don’t make sense, don’t move my mind along in either a story or a feeling but feel scattered and broken (like a blended free-association diary), then I get frustrated — and I don’t have the patience to read over and over trying to wrestle meaning out of it. Writing this now helps me think about poetry — thanks for giving me that opportunity. And perhaps I will exercise my insights in a future post.
Now, back to your poem.
I love your prose description of the poem in your comment. I challenge you to an experiment. Write a poem ( a vague one) and put up a 1-5 voting poll (wordpress has great polling options) and ask readers: “Do you feel you understand this poem”: (1) Totally! (2) For the most part (3) Enough – I get the feeling (4) Sort of (5) minimally (6) Not at all, actually.
THEN, in next post, give a prose description of what the setting is without telling the moral, the message, the feelings etc (leave that up to the poem still) — and then ask the same polling question.
Just a thought.
OK, back to the poem again:
May I ask further meanings now that I understand the context? What do the following mean?
(1) and a car surplus that always returns
(2) coin trays full of pennies [are they in the cars?]
(3) that baubles from porch to porch [doesn’t bauble mean “a showy ornament”” — it is not a very, is it? Do you mean “babbles”?]
(4) wrinkled ashes [why are they “wrinkled”?]
(5) Slightly slower [slower than what?]
(6) given a new half-life [why? who gave it?]
(7) he is born again in a black bag [why born again? why black bag?]
(8) swarming [?]
(9) while holding back his siblings and father on bicycles [dad on a bicycle? why would he hold back his dad on a bicycle?]
Now, the lines and phrases I did not question, I understood enough (either literally, emotionally or by image) to allow my mind to absorb the poem and let it touch me.
Just one person’s report. I would imagine a poet would enjoy this sort of feedback.
But then, maybe poetry is suppose to be considered sacred and should not be touched — like the ark of the covenant. Maybe we are suppose to treat it like the poet putting their vulnerable mind gently in a vase before us to enjoy for a moment but not question least that be considered pollutingly judgmental and squashing natural beauty.
Of course, I don’t think that should be the case, obviously. But maybe lots of folks believe something like that. Teasing out those differences in temperaments would be interesting. I wonder if anyone has explored that. Or maybe there are few people who are willing to straddle both worlds — even if only awkwardly. Hmmm?
Another poetry exercise idea (since you are a poet):
Write a poem. Post it. Have folks ask you to clarify, question, wonder (as I do above). Then write a rewrite of the poem influenced by the questions [heck, you could even with this] and see what folks think. You don’t have to answer all the questions, but perhaps just being in your mind would create a different poem that does different magic.
Just a thought.
Thanks for listening and inspiring these rambling thoughts.
Sabio,
Well, here goes.
The car surplus returning..remember it is hard to leave the neighborhood. Seemed there were three or four cars for each house. Cars are fast, but they keep coming back.
Corroded pennies in the coin trays (in the cars) signify the poverty of the neighborhood, yet they to tend to disregard pennies as actual currency. Plus, they are corroded, these bad pennies keep coming back to the neighborhood as well.
Baubles are exactly what I wanted. I do this often in a poem. The gossip that people are throwing back and forth are indeed showy ornaments and the similarity to the word babbles which is what would fit, carries a description of the quantity (and quality) of the gossip. One word, multiple meanings carried intentionally and easily identified.
Wrinkled ashes, are the cigarette butts put out and flicked everywhere. Also an indication of how much time is spent outside.
The cat is traveling slightly slower than the gossip and text messages. Cats, according to some have nine lives, yet the reason this cat has a new half-life, is that he is Schroder’s ( read Schroedinger’s ) cat, which is a thought experiment in physics where a cat is in a box with a radioactive atom. If the atom decays, then a vial of poisonous gas is released. It is impossible to know whether the cat is alive or dead without opening the box, hence he has a new half-life once he is in the black bag. The bag is signifying both the box, and the womb in which he is reborn as he decays into swarming (maggots).
Many treat poetry like it is the Ark of the Covenant, perhaps even the Ark we both know. The vase analogy is an apt one. Tearing a poem apart like this does seem a bit vulgar, being the author. It hasn’t stopped me from interpreting other poets’ poems. Speaking of, I have a real gem coming soon (when I find time to write of it) that I don’t think anyone else has noticed, and makes Robert Frost a very clever, and self-amused fellow.
I may write a post stating the various reasons I may write something, listing blogged poems as examples. I think you’d find it interesting.
If you wish to exercise your poetry brain, I’d recommend http://jaywalkingthemoon.wordpress.com/ . Claudia writes some great poetry. She doesn’t respond so much to comments on her poetry (as I’ve seen), but she seems to prefer hitting the blogs of those that comment.
Or, I suppose you can just take the blue pill, and find how deep the rabbit-hole really goes… hehe
I’ll consider your polling idea. If I do so, I’ll have some specific content in mind.
Peace
@ myrthryn,
That was fun. Perhaps if that were done enough, slowly this mind could see more of the secrets hidden in a poem.
I wonder, readers were given a test to describe any of the meanings, what percent they would get.
Oddly enough, Schroedinger’s cat is one I got before you said anything. But the black bag, swarming and week three all went right past me.
To me, so much seems wasted without careful writing — prose or poetry.
Sometimes, when I write a post, I am amazed at the comments. People aren’t reading, they are blasting through to make a comment. They want folks to visit their blog. They only read a title and start free-associating.
Others read, and don’t understand at all — I count that as my mistake. Thank goodness, comments help me learn about my writing.
But how do poets get feedback. How do they really know if they are just writing for themselves and everyone is just saying “Wow, cool” but don’t get 3/4 of your allusions — your just make up their own story.
Some poems speak real clear to me. Some are powerful. But some are much too much work — or basically impossible. Without explanation this poem is impossible for me. The explanation makes it sort of fun, now.
But how many poems are buried under platitudes of “nice” — which even the author magically feels satiated on?
@ Sabio I suppose repeats are possible.
It seems to me that you love to analyze (perhaps overly) things. When it comes to philosophy and such, I still do a great deal of that. When I write prose I do as well (unless it is intended as fiction).
Poetry, however, is fun by connecting all the things together. A great poet could write a poem that has an intentional ambiguous meaning, except for one little clue that leads back to another, etc until the whole thing is deciphered. When I write a poem without rhyme or meter, the poem flows quite easily, though I sometimes do some polishing as I go. Usually afterwards too. Before I set my pen down, I often know about how it is going to go. Sometimes, the elements coalesce into meaning as I write.
Thanx for sharing. I do the same — when I write poems. Which I have done many times over the years. But I don’t share them because they seem like nonsense. But I enjoy writing them and I enjoy reading them. But I know that to others they will be nonsense. I can write poems that make sense, of course.
When I am high on a feeling, I care little for sense — that is when some are born.
So I get you. I just don’t understand the sharing if no one is going to really get it — or even significantly get it though they may enjoy the splashes of images and feelings — the montage of a shredded amygdala.
Poetry remains a friend and torturer of mine.
Oh, yes: “you think too much“, “analyze too much”, “think too deep” etc
Yes, thank you, I’ve heard that my whole life, of course. Never when I play music, make love, fight, draw, play my instruments, kayak or cook …. But when I discuss ideas, yeah, I get that a lot. I have learned to watch who I talk to, about what.
Sometimes (and most often) I do write to share, but I don’t try to judge what I write by other’s opinions, unless I intend to ask for it.
Funny how you listed playing music twice… What do you play? I probably haven’t learned the watching who I talk to lesson quite as well as need to. Sound like a man after my own heart.
If you wanted the big linguistic guns…try some Finnegans Wake. To give an example, of my own devising… this line has to very different meanings..
Bye carful of whit you sae. Hehe..
Later, Sab
Thanx for the referral to Claudia’s site and her project “dVerse”. Do you ever participate>
I haven’t..though I guess I need to check it out.
Ooops, sorry. I hack at piano, guitar and use to do more flute. All self-taught because I can’t read music and have bad tone and rhythm – thus, hack.
Are you sure it isn’t improvisation?? *wink*