Many thanks for your insightful comments, Kasper--and
please forgive the typos and the formating, which went
to hell. I'm learning a lot about my writing from
listees, especially you and Joe Green , so thanks for
that too.
Candice
--- kasper salonen <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> I just LOVED 'Vertifo under mistletoe' (I've read it
> before);
> wonderful, little, warm rollercoaster. the
> variations of the rhythm &
> the references to songs reminded me generally of the
> collage-like
> jumble of the Waste Land, but more specifically of
> Cummings' "o to be
> in finland" (curiously), because it includes the
> stanzas:
>
> swing low
> sweet ca
>
> rr
> y on
>
> at which I always get the tune of Swing Low... in my
> head for a brief
> instant, until "pass the freedoms pappy". I get the
> same vibe with
> this poem, it sounds like listening to the radio
> while changing the
> channels. which I imagine might be what vertigo or
> dizziness could be
> described as. the holiday theme is well held, both
> vivid & subtle at
> once.
>
> lovely
>
> KS
>
> On 04/09/07, MC Ward <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> > Some listees have read these poems in my chapbook
> and
> > commented on them, but since other potential
> readers
> > don't have access to the book , I thought I'd post
> a
> > couple of the poems that readers have expressed
> > interest in, ""Vertigo under Mistletoe"" and "Dire
> > (2/4) Time."
> >
> > ""Vertigo under Mistletoe"
> >
> > _I'm at a place called Vertigo
> > I's everything I wish I didn't know_
> > (U2, "Vertigo")
> >
> > _all-heal_ by the garland flaunted
> > above the rushes-o _punt!_ what betidith
> > these yuleclouds magellanic?
> >
> > O natal star say our
> > yongling ycomen
> >
> > littel childe myrrh is mine
> > its bitter perfume
> > its babel sound
> >
> > O hush ye men of
> > strife!
> >
> > it's kisses kisses
> > then into egypt with him
> >
> > crisscross the rubicon
> > sun askance the snow
> > where it lies dinged
> > by deer on the run
> >
> > so infant limbs do
> > blanch to lose their
> > outdoor color and
> > _touch my
> robe!_
> >
> > O babe be not
> > affrighted
> >
> > desire of nations
> > mark my step
> > my good page
> >
> > holly mistletoe red berries ivy
> > turkeys geese game poultry brawn pigs
> > sausages oysters
> > pies puddings fruit punch all instantly
> >
> > _vanish_
> >
> > (c) Candice Ward, 2006
> >
> >
> >
> > "Dire (2/4) Time"
> >
> > _Time is a stripper
> > Doing it just for you_
> > (The Grateful Dead, "Cats Under the Stars")
> >
> > this is my mission, your satisfaction in the
> > dire
> > rain and spectral action of these untimely
> > streets
> >
> > where memory rocks and corners the dream
> > market
> > once the honky-tonks close and go dark to
> > moonlight
> >
> > as ghost dancehalls, when midnight bells
> > the cats to yin-yang with the stars when
> > someone calls and someone turns, time
> > and again someone never--comes a time
> >
> > looks like rain, more than rain, that
> > ble`ssed cup turning upon empty at--
> > _begin again_ with your harvest home
> > coming in loud, unclear,as hornblown
> >
> > plenty tuned to the winter garden, or
> > a reaper's song picked clean as secrecy
> >
> > then in hand, now in glove and pulled back
> > under the glass of that cold coldframe
> >
> > we plot to harrow the old hunger gtounds
> > where wolfsbane roots, we leaf, we sorrow
> > up the wordsalad, tossing back this joyful
> > poison, page after scrap, ajar the damp book
> >
> > of once and since when, with its windfall
> > gatherings of coincidence, for come dire
> > season the blight is on the fruit and nut
> > the rain falls on the good and the wet
> >
> > (must you wave that dowser's wand as well?)
> > someone is already weeping in my sleep,
> > while
> >
> > day is another drowning of color by the hour
> > down the galileo glass--sink of my pastime
> > sifted
> > through its own miniscule--no cups my
> > hands
> > those two (late & little) so clockwise now
> >
> > it's beginning to look a lot like kismet
> > (wolf at the window, satisfaction at the door)
> >
> > looking to get lucky, or even, you are stoked
> > for
> > winter, gifted and so starved to the letter
> > the mother
> > tongue opens my mouth to suggestion,
> > my hunger
> > to conjure magic bullets for an orphan
> > with no gun
> >
> > (we all need someone to choke or chew on)
> > when something breaks, something goes
> >
> > under, quicker to fade than fugitive color, no
> > bluer or slower than time's figure, a belle
> > of a burlesque queen, rain-missioned in
> > satin to button it up just for you
> >
> > (my glove) and take it all back
> > to your dire satisfaction
> >
> > (c) Candice Ward, 2006
> >
> > Comments, pro or con, are welcome, as are
> questions.
> > Happy Reading (I hope)--
> >
> > Candice
> >
> >
> >
>
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