Karla Linn Merrifield
De-myth-i-fy-ingI see the poem
in a waking dream in strands of sea kelp where I swam in skeins of Spanish moss curtaining me off to perform my madness I make lines entangle lines lines weave elaborate palm braids for my crown my metaphor is nude my simile is naked you wonder why symbols masquerade fig leaves symbols allude leaves of grass because the poem says so & if it wants to come all over the Jackson Pollacks so be the poem who will not release me makes me fear I’ll do something I’ll be sorry for tomorrow the poem needs it quickies & it needs to erase the image of Prometheus Bound paint over remains of mythic bondage the poem throws off chains in the poem Medusa is the beautiful Madonna I am here to do its bidding until the waking dream sleeps Antidoteeven as the darkness oozes
overland, it spews into the sea spewen… spīwan… speien… spȳja… speiwan… spuere as verb…as noun…eleven hundred years of vomit human vomit oceans of vomit-- but even then…even now…I commit hope….hopa…hoop…Hoffe—with you Dramatis PersonaThis is the gestalt of Ego Everypoet,
E.E. (not e.e.), Psyche’s female lead: To the Superegos— all egos are illegal aliens in need of severe restraints, ergo: wing-clipped zoo flamingo, casino macaw chained to tiki bar, caged cockatoo in $ Store window. To the Id named JoJo the Poet-- E.E. is a wildling enraptured raptor: Rio Negro harpy eagle, Amazon-eyed, Nile River falcon-headed sky queen, Colorado River canyon-conquering condor. She admits to a certain ferocity of syllables. Aubade in Nine AmphibrachsI ponder dawn, listening, repeating
his koans in amphibrach whispers: I’m writing the troubles-- Your brother may be your killer-- into the music into the music. In December’s blue raincoat he arrives. If my woman is sleeping and dreaming, she is much older and nobody’s fool. Humming Aurora’s love song with the poet, the old monk remembers to chant: I miss you, forgive you your enrapture glad you took the trouble to say your morning prayers in my name. Sincerely, L. Cohen [with lines from Leonard Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat” (1971] BangNo wonder you checked out
of the regional medical center, the nomenclature finally wore your old brain to a numb. You sure as heck weren’t going to fight no hospitalese disease no more. You could swallow FALL RISK stamped on a cartoon-yellow wristband, but NDD-2 Mechanical Soft Diet? No way, José. Mechanical? Think pureed. Think strained. Think baby-food-Pablum. Bleah. (At least Mech-Soft Entrée is spelled correctly.) The sterile scene is suffocatingly abbreviating: MRI, CT, BP, CCs… Don’t expect a doc on his/her rounds; he/she’s a hospitalist now. Say lumbar puncture because spinal tap is too Frankensteinian. I like to imagine it was the LPNs, RNs, and NPs who shorted you right out, a few final pains at the ass end, right before your last word. [with lines from Leonard Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat." 1971] |
New Word[skuh-too r-ee-uh nt]
(skəˈtjʊərɪənt) scaturient I become geyser flashflood vaudeville showgirl in feather boa hussy in stilettos exclamations em dashes volcano ashes hurricane surges I leave myself breathless BackyardThis grandmother cottonwood
is ideal for the tree house I am reconstructing in its limbs. The old native welcomes one from the past, c. 1969, one that stood on stilts. You climbed a ladder, clumsy; I followed you, fumbling, to where bunk beds had been used by Ann’s older brother, and Jean’s-- boys-to-men’s beer spilled sperm. Knees hugged to abdomen, we sat on bare plank flooring and kept each other’s secrets. Who knows? You. Me. And now the old witness tree. Archival Artifactquoting from a loose-leaf
sheet of ruled filler recto in bold red Woolworth’s R-4963 N-3 verso partly in cursive partly printed in fountain pen’s black ink They made us alone in the world hopeless or not not anymore look forward David believe all this The sun and the stars come out Not a diary entry not a poem but sans salutation sans signature unfinished perhaps and undated (probably autumn 1968) it is the undelivered note of possibility rendered impossible The biz
|
