Hi Andrew,
I'm a really bad "describer" and I apologize up front for having to show what I mean. Please forgive me.
But, I'd consider "mucking up" the natural order of your poem, in the disjointed way that people sometimes talk. In the spirit of Creeley's poem:
I Know A Man
As I sd to my
friend, because I am
always talking,- John, I
sd, which was not his
name, the darkness sur-
rounds us, what
can we do against
it, or else, shall we &
why not, buy a goddamn big car,
drive, he sd, for
christ's sake, look
out where yr going.
Maybe consider what is NOT said as more important than what IS said?
Coffee at Gloria Jean's
The knotted varicose veins,
And the customers sitting down
to relieve aching
Backs. Father Fahey, Frank said,
Keith the Butcher is better
Suited. Dead’s dead. And that’s it.
Mock colonial windows framed
Smiling my fingers through
Burnt tar, and a chocolate
Muffin.
None of that God stuff, as they send
Me off, the hoops of supermarket
Shopping carts crashing against the
Café window made noise.
To conduct my funeral, then,
He said. See ya mate. I waved a loose
Finger and headed for the car park.
Maybe try to muck it up yourself.
Cheers,
Mill
-----Original Message-----
From: andrew burke <[log in to unmask]>
To: [log in to unmask]
Sent: Tue, 13 Jan 2009 2:50 pm
Subject: Re: draft for comment=0
A
Thanks, Fred. You've given me a lot to think about! "Without thematic
ayoff" is particularly relevant, so thanks.
Robert, thank you, too, for that encouraging word 'interesting' - If I can
eep that element as I sharpen up others, it will succeed.
Discussion is still wide open, I hope ...
Andrew
2009/1/13 Frederick Pollack <[log in to unmask]>
> ----- Original Message ----- From: "andrew burke" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, January 13, 2009 3:27 AM
Subject: draft for comment
I proffer this one up for discussionm - a second draft, so not even set in
wet cement yet.
*Coffee at Gloria Jean's*
'Keith the Butcher is better suited
to conduct my funeral than
Father Fahey,' Frank said in Gloria Jean's,
the shopping centre café, coffee tasting
of burnt tar, chocolate chip muffin
crumbling on his off-white face.
Mock-colonial windows framed smiling
consumers sitting down to relieve aching backs
and knotted varicose veins. 'None
of that God stuff as they send me off,
mate. Dead's dead, that's it.'
I fore went a second cup, threaded
my fingers through
plastic hoops of supermarket
bags, and stood to go. 'See ya, mate,'
I said. 'Not if I see you first,' Frank retorted
in place of wit. I waved
a loose finger and headed for the car park,
mentally ticking off the list as I went. Fingertips
reddened and white welts pulsed as I
propped the shopping against the
back bumper,
clicked unlock on the key and threw open
the boot, thinking of the metaphors
of everyday, the cryptic lyricism of
an ancient tongue wriggling in the minds
of late capitalist man. 'Hot enough
for you?' said the woman from
next door with Magic Happens on her back window.
'Sure is,' I smiled, surfacing
from my reverie and dropping the boot.
--
Wordy. Actions especially are padded and repetitive, without thematic
payoff. Reader is not interested in looking at the central figure having a
blank pause or merely going from here to there. Has to be tightened and
sharpened. Here's what I suggest:
'Keith the Butcher is better suited
to conduct my funeral than
Father Fahey,' Frank said in
the shopping centre café, coffee tasting
of burnt tar, muffin crumbling
on his off-white face.
Mock-colonial windows framed
consumers relieving aching backs
and knotted veins. 'None of that God stuff
when they send me off,
mate. Dead's dead.' I forewent
a second cup, mentally ticked
off my list threaded fingers through
the plastic hoops of bags, and stood to go.
'See ya, mate.' 'Not if I see you first,'
Frank retorted. In the car park,
fingertips reddened, I propped
the shopping against the back bumper,
clicked open the boot, considering
the metaphors of everyday,
the cryptic lyrics of an ancient tongue
wriggling in the minds of
late capitalist man. 'Hot enough for you?'
said the w
oman from next door
with Magic Happens on her windshield.
--
ndrew
ttp://hispirits.blogspot.com/
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