Hi Sarah - I am interested in your poem, it presents a startling series of
images in language that I find simple but textured and rich in associations.
I did wonder if you have too many definite articles hanging about (a problem
I often have myself!)and if stanzas six to nine could be condensed. I like
the parentheses (not so sure about the paper lion - closest thing to a
cliche in the poem)very much and esp the last stanza. As a reader I am
already in the territory of myth and fable with your raven and beast.... and
then the turn around about what is real is very neat.... but my fave bit of
the poem is the third stanza. It has a great tension between the jaunty
stepping rhythm and the violence of the vocab, that is almost..... comic?
comic-book? but with a very nasty edge.
Is this piece typical of your work? I cant recall seeing your stuff on the
list before but the mails go past in an undifferentiated flood sometimes and
I miss things I should have noticed!
Liz
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Poetryetc provides a venue for a dialogue relating to poetry and
> poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]]On Behalf Of Sarah Peters
> Sent: Sunday, April 13, 2003 11:16 PM
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: Re: post dramatic stress disorder
>
>
> Here's a new one I'm working on.
> It's an attempt to capture the feeling and imagery of a dream I
> had the day
> U.S. starting dropping bombs on Iraq.
>
> Evening, the Black Branch
>
> The raven recites:
> Down here, it is over.
> Here, the defense tows the line.
>
> Havoc! cries the beast.
> Ignore him, insists the raven.
>
> Indolence informs the last show.
> Members of panic march in,
> parched and charred.
>
> (My arrest was part of my breath.
> Here behind the door: a nervous man,
> a loud ocean, the cold accomplice.)
>
> The reunion of flames marches in.
> Brittle paper confuses the air.
> The scorched earth
> braces against the wind.
>
> (I only pass by paper lions.
> The real pride is always ahead.)
>
> The raven crumbles.
> Skin of a lion
> hangs on the entrance of camp.
>
> A coat speaks for a tree.
>
> (I listen for the fire.
> My eyes look past
> this fable of Earth.)
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