Twenty After Seven: For Kirk

[evilbeej]

Crickets in the fresh-mown grass and
dozy nocturnal birds calling sleepily
   harmonize
   in perfect cadences all their own
   complementary rhythms
     with
protesting transmissions and squeaky belts
purring perfect engines' fiery hearts
the insistent whining of flourescent lights
interstate eighty singing over the wall
muted heartbeats from warring bass speakers
chattering consumers exiting the mall
   and
     someone's radio through an open window

This busily quiet orchestra
removed by the infinite distance of
   double doors and two hundred feet
   from the Saturday insanity of
   tired impatient shoppers
is overseen by the creeping twilight
   canopy of blues after sunset

Here and there again stars
bright short pinpricks glimmering silently
observers of nothing that see it all
distant suns join a chorus of
   inaudible motion
their graceful imperial waltz cross-sky
   is joined gleefully by these:
     humanity's high-flying children
     jets
     contrails in the stratosphere and
     streaking quicksilver bright
     satellites
     madly high orbits
        presbyopic young-old winking in a
        proudly competitive dance-a-thon
swinging fast and furiously in comparison
observers of everything that see nothing

Everything in this warm freeze of moment is
     (concrete and asphalt
     brick and gravel
     rows and columns of automobiles
     ashes and cracked mortar
     puddles and cigarette filters
     bugs and grass and people
     me)
washed in the dim blue light of reality
     here
        living
             now.

Comments

Five minutes to 7:00

[deireanach.livejournal.com]

Interesting piece, but less coherent than your last effort, in my opinion. The third verse, about the stars et al, changes not only place but also sense (from auditory to visual) from the first two; the last verse is visual, but it returns to the place of the first verse, which made my head disconnect the images. Thus, for this reader, the third verse is like a whole, separate poem, sandwiched into the middle of the other.

I do mean whole. For me, that third verse has beginning, middle, and a killer last line for an end. A way of saying something without actually saying it in so many words--a difficult thing, and admirable when it works. I think it does work here.

A note on form: you might try ending your lines on nouns or verbs, instead of prepositions, conjunctions, or determinatives. Nouns and verbs are strong, the rest are much weaker; I feel you'd do better letting the image words end most phrases.

Re: Five minutes to 7:00

[thenowhere.livejournal.com]

I have to disagree on your thoughts about line endings.

I prefer the way she has them, along with the face-slap of the nouns as beginning the lines. I like the way it trails off, not that it's weak, just that it makes me want more.

Ginabeana, I heart your writing. Would you please just get published already? I want an autographed copy of a book of your poems. I want. WANT.