Sean been telling me to put something out there
my name on the cover of a book
or the bottom of a publication I keep
signing my name at the end of emails to my mother
like I were kindly applying for a job she keeps
asking me about my name on a plane ticket I have
a fear that I do not exist anywhere
I am not
I know
people have climbed mountains to tie their flag to the peak
I know
there is a flag on the moon there is
proof positive that they were there I am sure
there is someone carving their name in a heart on a tree that is
one among thousands in the forest and maybe it is
carved and lost and never to be found again Or
those two names hate each other
shudder at the thought of ever having shared a bed
or space in a heart scratched into an ever green But still there is
a record of a love that once was
my name on the cover of a book
or the bottom of a publication I keep
signing my name at the end of emails to my mother
like I were kindly applying for a job she keeps
asking me about my name on a plane ticket I have
a fear that I do not exist anywhere
I am not
I know
people have climbed mountains to tie their flag to the peak
I know
there is a flag on the moon there is
proof positive that they were there I am sure
there is someone carving their name in a heart on a tree that is
one among thousands in the forest and maybe it is
carved and lost and never to be found again Or
those two names hate each other
shudder at the thought of ever having shared a bed
or space in a heart scratched into an ever green But still there is
a record of a love that once was
Before they stepped out onto the main stage of
the killing floor
gladiators at the Colosseum had to nervously wait in the wings
behind a metal gate
Maybe barfing on the toned calves of the man in front of them
while a lion ripped the whistling guts out of a familiar stomach
Still, some of them kept their humor, and managed to carve penises
and yo' momma jokes into the walls
While, "VIND", for victory, was common, maybe if the character were an honest man
an inspirational quote about hope or carping a diem were tolerable
but I'd imagine the most popular guy in the gladiator locker room
was the guy who had the best one liner about
how much the emperor liked the smell of his own farts
or sucked at playing his fiddle
Archaeologists have also found messages in Viking caves
scaling unstable ladders on cavernous mud slicked floors
they deciphered mysterious and forgotten runes
for things like
"Sven was here" or
"Johannes climbed this"
It would seem we were made to leave our mark somehow
and so we march, flailing about
casting actions out like each dance is the dance
to put us over into something more than human
like firing a shot gun into a wishing well
gladiators at the Colosseum had to nervously wait in the wings
behind a metal gate
Maybe barfing on the toned calves of the man in front of them
while a lion ripped the whistling guts out of a familiar stomach
Still, some of them kept their humor, and managed to carve penises
and yo' momma jokes into the walls
While, "VIND", for victory, was common, maybe if the character were an honest man
an inspirational quote about hope or carping a diem were tolerable
but I'd imagine the most popular guy in the gladiator locker room
was the guy who had the best one liner about
how much the emperor liked the smell of his own farts
or sucked at playing his fiddle
Archaeologists have also found messages in Viking caves
scaling unstable ladders on cavernous mud slicked floors
they deciphered mysterious and forgotten runes
for things like
"Sven was here" or
"Johannes climbed this"
It would seem we were made to leave our mark somehow
and so we march, flailing about
casting actions out like each dance is the dance
to put us over into something more than human
like firing a shot gun into a wishing well
but what of the wishing well?
What of the coins that echoed down and back from the water
just once
never to be heard again
how now their corpses are piles of dulled silver lost in the pitch black
What of the stars in the sky?
How each one must have been someone's
first wishing star
how the sky's soft but merciless dark is too vast for an echo
how it swallows our voices whole and without event
How so many of us may have tried
only never to have been heard of at all
our lives passing, slowly, and inevitably
like the a city bus lapping the same old scenery day after day
till it was time to sleep
How about screaming our guts out at the night sky anyway
like we were telling the bands tracks to play next
or screaming the lyrics to our favorite song
How about the one gladiator who never killed a lion
but juggled swords instead?
How about the story about the traveler who got lost in the forest
and, having only one name to carry
sang that name over and over again
till they turned into a fox
till the birds in the forest learned the song
the song of that one name
till they turned into a fox
till the birds in the forest learned the song
the song of that one name
stanza one:
ReplyDeletenot sure what you’re doing with sentence structure here. You don’t follow through in the rest of the poem. Was this an idea you abandoned or is it intentional?
I follow everything but the “I am not” line.
The part about your emails with your mom seems out of place. I wonder if it could go after the tree carving stuff in its own stanza. Like you spend some time talking about what you leave behind in regards to personal legacy, but then you pull a fast one on the reader, and you’re like – I’m not talking about history; I’m talking about my place in the world now.
stanza two:
Coliseum
“whistling guts” is an incredible line
Have you considered opening with the gladiator stanza and then going into what you have in stanza one? I think there’s something about talking about what they carve into the Coliseum, and then starting the next stanza with “Sean keeps telling me to put my name in a book” (suggested line cut/combo). Also, “Before stepping out onto the stage of the killing floor” is a super strong first line.
stanza three:
cut it. you’ve made the point already, and this isn’t nearly as strong or as visceral]
stanzas four and five:
This feels like you’re explaining to us something you’ve already laid out and described.
If you want to move the opening stanzas as I suggested above, I think you can go from “But still there is a record of a love that once was” into some sort of transition line that takes you to the idea of unreturned wishes. I like the wishing well stuff and the firing the shotgun. But I don’t think you need the between lines.
ReplyDeletestanza 6:
Great great stuff
stanza 7:
awesome. like how the city bus image ties together earlier ideas
THAT SAID – where I am now in the poem, I’ve lost the idea where you state “I have a fear that I do not exist anywhere” That is such an incredibly strong and interesting idea, it may be a different poem altogether. It really seems like you’re talking about something different here. And I think that the lines about you emailing with your mom go hand in hand with those, so maybe they get lifted too?
stanzas 8, 9:
Okay so there’s a turn in stanza 8. “How about screaming… anyway”
Functionally, this reads to me as a ‘despite the difficulties – here’s what we do’ moment. Even if the results are the same, we do this thing anyway. That’s a cool moment of triumph after these melancholic descriptions of unreturned and unheard wishes.
It’s much harder to see how the earlier stanzas connect. Is this about trying to leave your mark even though it won’t be left? Is the inability to leave your mark connected to the idea of not existing anywhere?
ANOTHER THING: You’ve lost the personal perspective at this point. You have lots of observations about how other people leave their mark (gladiators, tree carving) but where is the speaker now? The poems really strong when you’re talking about publishing something, emailing with your mother. Can you place the speaker at the concert, on the city bus? How does this connect to the speakers idea of legacy and place? We’ve lost that person.
stanza 10:
I really love the mythical and fairy tale feel of this final stanza. And I like how the idea of the “song” carrying one beyond the traveller’s death – something that’s not carved but survives beyond death anyhow? Super cool.
I don’t understand the line about turning into a fox, but that’s fine
I don’t understand the final line. And I don’t think it’s the end of the poem. Or maybe it is, but not this poem, the revised version of this poem.
Maybe in the next version, the song of one name ties to the idea of feeling like you exist somewhere, and your mother emailing you constantly is kinda like her singing the song over and over again.
Right now, this stanza surprises us and then leaves us hanging. The former is fine, but the latter’s kinda a bummer.
OVERALL:
ReplyDeleteThis is full of great stuff. But I’m not sure if it’s two or three separate ideas or if you just haven’t found the thread yet. I think it can be one solid piece. And I think the best way to thread them is for you to show us the speaker – where is the speaker in all this? What are they experiencing in the context of wishing on stars, and throwing coins in the well? Where are the other people in the speaker’s life that make them feel this way?
Throw some real characters into these moments and see what pops up.