Service
Service
When they made Easter---I---exhumed
it and fashioned it back into
itself---pushed his hands
into the deep almost muddy soil,
the worms biting against the scratches
fingers, pebbles and roots and rough, subtle
motion. From the black and white
serials the android, his desperate brain clutched
by chrome and glass, asks us (how
long until not
this wretched planet) the defintion, asks us
again for the definition. The bicycle
behind glass, in the hyperrealist
painting is at last
worth looking at, worth a thousand
bucks, doesn't it look just
like a photograph, the ruby
glass (his fingers
find mine as the sermon
starts) or the ruby
lipstick planted on the Martian
glass fades as attention grows,
lovely and green, from this system.
Written for the Easter thing; figured I might put it up.
Posted Apr 13, 2018, 12:19 PM UTC
Wow this is wonderful! I love all of your imagery and how unique it is. My only complaint with this poem is one that I have all of the time - the images are so powerful but they don't entirely connect to a clear idea. This poem starts out obscure and abstract and it never fully resolves or explains it obscurity. But great work!
Try to understand that obscurity as a feature of the poem -- the narrator is intentionally misleading you. Ask yourself: why might the poet want to do that? What connections between the images do you notice in theme or content? The connections might not be logical.
I’m capable of reading the poem. Poems need to extend beyond their images and I didn’t feel like this one did. Don’t need a lesson on how to read.
O
K