while bundled in trinkets, hoping the car windows are up.
We've traveled far enough to learn a thing or two about it,
but little else, now that you mention it.
When Katie brags there's nothing to do around here without
getting your hands dirty, I can't help but question her motives.
The seams within her are splitting like hairs, and I cannot stress
enough the importance of stature in a place like this.
When you've got less windows than doors, it's tough to see
where you're going, and where that hard rain's coming from.
But that doesn't mean buses have it made, of course.
Don't take adages so seriously.
And while you're at it, don't look anything in the mouth --
it'll come back to haunt you if you believe in that sort.
It's a war out there, one leg at a time. And it'll sweep you
off your feet, in a place like this.
-[m]
I really love how you use old adages to give this really surreal, almost ghost-town-like space a familiar, yet unnerving grounding. Reminds me a bit of Denis Johnson's short stories and how he describes atmosphere. Also, it is very flash-fiction-y. which I love.
ReplyDelete...
(k)
I think it blows. Maybe I'm just some asshole troll, but I dig the feeling, but it's smirky, with Godlike omnipotence and authority.
ReplyDeleteDear highschoolteacher,
ReplyDeleteI think that improperly constructed compound sentences blow.
Sincerely,
(k)
(k), as always, you are my intrepid knight.
ReplyDeleteHowever, you are both right. It's a smirky, empty ghost town of familiar, Godlike omnipotence and authority; and it most certainly blows.
Anything constructive to offset your self-aware trolling, hst?
-[m]
First, I want to apologize for using the word "blows." In troll fashion, I exaggerate, and I figure that if you don't like it you can remove the comment. That way, my actions do not negatively affect my conscience!
ReplyDeleteThe first two stanzas (about real experiences, full of uncertainty, which is great, because that's life) do not match the second two stanzas, really just the last one, since the line in #3 says not to take adages seriously. That sets up the last stanza to be really out of sorts because it is just adage after adage--maybe your point, but it is hard to take ironically, so it comes across as painting everything over with adage (your word, a good one) wisdom, nullifying the feeling and uncertainty (the best parts of this poem) of the first two stanzas.
I think the first two stanzas are great because they are narrative. What is going on, camping? It really doesn't matter, because what matters is there: community, feeling and uncertainty of the poet. Stanza 3 is also good, but needs its own poem, separate from this one.
Narrative is the way to go, because it is so good in the first two stanzas. How to end a poem like this from the 2nd stanza? I don't know, I wasn't there and I've never written a poem.