Granddaddy used the mason jars for homemade holy water.
We’ve seen him bring back to life
what was long since buried
and speak truths in tongues–
we still work to decode.
Donovan catches fireflies
in the jars now.
Everyday they scrimmage–
training for when the dark swarms,
like fleets of night,
like locusts on a desert in bloom
and split him clean
down the middle.
and smash the mason jar
in his chest.
Sew him back quickly.
He pleads:
I want to stand electric.
We maneuver these days like the sun
came out in blackface.
A smiling
synthetic exclamation.
The audience doesn’t know
if the tears come from the hurt
of the heart collapsing in on itself
or the honest of bottom
belly laughter.
The name you scream into the pillow
does not know the body beside you–
We are parallel conversations bent
on collision.
Bound to our shames even in exaltation. Amen
The jar held seeds
dreamt to be forests,
but we heard how that story ends.
From outside the garden
mommy says you can’t fly in the face of god.
We’re still working out the kinks–
in these wings stitched from phantom kisses,
ill-fitting compasses that stall on themselves
sometimes,
and the spilt innards of mason jars
we found along the way.
Yeah, there are a few cuts,
but under the right light
these wounds blossom
honest.
In the meantime–
we dance.
A storm to drown out the sirens’
shrieking fits, mourning
the moments martyred
in the name of clean breaks.
Welcome to Web Poets! :-)))
I have so many thoughts about this poem, having read it a few times, but before I ramble on, I would love to hear what kind of feedback YOU would like to receive. Specific critique (line by line kind of stuff)? General impressions? None whatsoever?
I would also encourage any lurkers to jump in there and discuss poetry too — I hate being the only one. ;-)
Thanks!
Miriam
Starting off saying you have so many thoughts is too exciting for me to try to limit your commentary.
I really do not expect a specific response. I was trying to share a few poems regularly in hopes of strengthening this community of writers. Trust that I will be here posting frequently.
Any commentary of any kind is welcome.
Be Well,
Brian
ps sorry about all that nonsense in the beginning of the poem.. Copying and pasting didn’t work the way I had hoped.
You’re funny. :-) OK, I will not limit my commentary. Much anyway. ;-)
And I’m glad to hear you will be a regular poster!
Before I say anything else, I need to say I love this poem. It’s rich — most poems frankly do NOT stand up well to multiple readings (I mean by us regular people, smile), and this one did. Deep and rich and for the most part you manage the figurative language very well in addition to maintaining the narrative. That’s not so easy to do.
I’ll jus throw out a few things, and want you to know that I throw everything out there, in a TRUE take it or leave it fashion:
1. I’d change the first line a bit and get rid of “homemade” — it flows better without it, and we will understand that as the poem goes on.
2. I’d get rid of the dashes at the ends of the lines that have them — they don’t seem to add to the meaning and in fact are jarring.
3. I’d pare back as many little words and suffixes as I could. For example, this set of lines here:
Everyday they scrimmage–
training for when the dark swarms,
like fleets of night,
like locusts on a desert in bloom
and split him clean
down the middle.
and smash the mason jar
in his chest.
Could be this:
Everyday they scrimmage,
train for when the dark swarms
like fleets of night,
locusts on a blooming desert,
split him clean
down the middle
and smash the mason jar
in his chest.
4. While most of your symbolism and metaphor is handled well, some feels a bit out of place to me. Ending with sirens takes the poem somewhere far afield from where the rest of the poem has lived. Compasses, too, I’m not sure about.
5. A practical matter: the mason jars held holy water or seed?
OK — I’ll just add that I LOVE THESE LINES:
in these wings stitched from phantom kisses
We are parallel conversations bent
on collision.
Bound to our shames even in exaltation. Amen
He pleads:
I want to stand electric.
Among others.
Thanks! :-)
Miriam
Wow!!!!