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Click hereI slip softly into the air
beneath the clouds
where mist holds me close,
more a shroud
than a ceremony. The dull
white lingers beads click
like cubes the silk rustles
thick layers slide binding
tight and stiff veil pinned
in with its neat tiny
stitches, blinding.
Crunch crunch my heels
tap stabbing veins
of snow sketched across
asphalt, a dark glittering
path. All is white
this silent night in slow
procession and sufficient
as a shell. Now I think
I know what waxworks know
for I am vaguely absent
and alone
as the world's furious song
flows through my costume.
Texte~
I slip softly into the air
The world's furious song flows through my costume.
--Red Shift, Ted Berrigan
The poem seems to emphasize restriction ("mist holds me close," "thick layers slide binding / tight and stiff veil pinned / in with its neat tiny / stitches, blinding") rather than joy--in fact pretty much emphasizes the contradiction of joy ("Now I think / I know what waxworks know / for I am vaguely absent / and alone "). Excellent use of Berrigan's fabulous line for the close (can't, of course, give you credit for the line itself).
Poet Guy is not quite sure what he feels about this poem. His own marriage was quite a joyful event, but he knows it isn't always the case, particularly if one includes arranged marriages and the like.
An interesting alternative to the usual portrayal.
I have zero experience of snow so I can't vouch for the authenticity of the imagery but it was sharp and chilly. Five.
and you make it look so easy. I am working on one and so far it has been fun. I have noticed in your poems lately the use of audibles and they make for interesting poetry and in turn, translate into visuals. Your work has been really good. Sorry I have no constructive crit...
...of fine lines. It feels suitably bleak and obviously monochromatic. Done as only the Grande Dame of the Glosa can do it.
Tess
Severing it from it's image was the right thing for this gorgeous poem. I kept thinking (instead) of "Easter" by Patti Smith:)