Acolyte's "Sonnets to Bacchus" Thread IFT

[Acolyte]

5th column, Bench-- thanks for reading.


CAUTION, or, Pity Them Not

he's at his most iconic
straight black arms waving wildly
as he wipes out on the wet and slippery floor:
the yellow sign man

he misses a hard-to-see step (caution: drop)
he burns an overcurious hand (caution: hot)
he lives out all our modern Aesops, like
"the yellow sign man and the lock-out, tag-out machine"

but is he more than our collective inobservance,
our fair-or-foul fall guy?
is he clumsy, masochistic, or just fantastically unlucky?
is he married to the start-of-infomercial woman
who lives in paralytic fear of the common potato peeler?

perhaps there's heady romance in their lives of danger
or pride in the roles of slapstick public service
I know at least that they are perseverant heroes, for
as many times as the yellow sign man has slipped and fallen
I have never seen him laying, hopeless, on the floor

[avalanche]

The Sekhmet/Hathor poem is still my fave here.
Never knew comparative religions could be so wacky, huh.
Joseph Campbell would have his own take, I'm sure....

[5th column]

I once mistook a particularly lively looking yellow sign man for the warning 'No Fred Astaire immitators here' - nicely done.

[Bench]

'Caution' is funny. I really liked

"modern Aesops, like/ the yellow sign man and the lock-out, tag-out machine"

Had me sitting through a tool-box talk at work. The final line is perfect.

As you were...

[Steven]

Some funny, off-kilter moments in 'CAUTION': particularly guffawed at

is he clumsy, masochistic, or just fantastically unlucky?
is he married to the start-of-infomercial woman
who lives in paralytic fear of the common potato peeler?

[JFN]

Acolyte, you had me smiling from start to finish with Mythtakes, from the title to the close. So light and conversational. Really well worked. Archeology is equally tongue in cheek, and done well.

He Forgot... is a nicely framed nonet, and a moving comment on memory loss and the degradation of the mind, echoed in the shortening lines.

CAUTION... had me grinning. How nice to personify the sign people. I'd love to see how the toilet door sign people get along. Mr, Mrs, unspecified Disabled person, and Baby Change.

This was a fun thread to read. I'll be back.

John

[Acolyte]

avalanche: I'm sure he would have. 5th column, Steven, thanks for stopping by. Bench--thanks for good comments. JFN--I'm glad you liked the trip; I'd love to see you take up the cause of the bathroom door people.

All: Sorry to have vanished. I was at a weeklong work trip with no functional computer and the hotel work center was...underequipped, to say the least. I made it back late Friday (early Saturday), in time to go to a friend's wake. I've been writing daily, though; I'll transcribe now. Also, I am terribly, terribly behind on fluff. That will be a focus this week. Love you all.


You've Got Mail

my boss slides over his laptop
an open email simply states that you have
drowned

--

it is a presentation and a half before I notice
any time has passed, and
that my boss is working again
as if a Tuesday death note's not bizarre
as if his laptop was not just a technopsychopomp
who brought your soul to Florida from California
brought you to this conference center
brought you, too briefly, back to life

and I am watching on my eyelids
as your face comes in and out of focus
for now, but not forever,
I can hold its shape in memory:
a marble bust that, like an ice sculpture,
has unexpectedly begun to sweat

[Acolyte]

(NH2)2COHNO3

first add urea fertilizer prills to warm water
as they dissolve, the mixture will chill
like an April cold snap after
the formal start of spring
this is only foreshadowing if you want it to be

then slowly drip in nitric acid
as concentrated as you can afford
this is the most dangerous part
if you prefer a carefree life on Earth
(more on your options later)
a runaway exotherm in this addition
will scatter you and your equipment
like a blundering toddler does
with dandelion seeds

a solid will crash out of solution
it is your target, urea nitrate
filter it; it will feel like wet snow
and will burn your fingers with residual acid
pure, it would be white, but for now
it will resemble brown sugar
this is only a metaphor if you want it to be

dry it in an oven
it will offgas acidic, toxic vapors
but three days later
(this is only an allusion if you want it to be)
what was snow will now be sand
do not drop, shock, heat, or scrape it
because it is a 1.1 explosive
and this is looking a lot more
like foreshadowing now

what you do next depends on who you are
if you are a farmer, redissolve it
dilute it, spread it on your fields
it will balance alkaline soil,
add more nitrogen than a legume crop,
feed your fields, and through them,
the nations

if you are a terrorist
in Baghdad, Brussels, or Oklahoma City
pack it in a moving van, or better yet, a vest
attach a blasting cap
kiss your kids goodbye
and make a statement
about God and fertilizer
and how life and death
are bound together in the spring

[Acolyte]

(So, this one's a bit more like the typical fare PClem and any other remembers have been waiting for this year.)



Capture the Flag

usually it takes a gang to play it
but we prefer our Sunday morning,
two-man variant:

we draw battle lines across the bedroom
I tie on a red kerchief, showing my colors
you apply a football player's warpaint
effective psychological warfare, because
you know exactly what that does to me

at last, the games begin
we start with reconnaissance:
probings of defense and
tentative penetrations
then come tactical maneuvers
feints and counterthrusts
we engage and break to
engage and break again, until

we get lost in the grand melee
a swirling struggle, a tug-of-war,
an interplay of slip and friction
a game of ground lost
and of ground gained
a game as fun to play as win, but

today I gain the upper hand, and
staring my opponent face-to-face,
take your flag and plant it,
proudly, in my base

[Acolyte]

(recipe poem ftw!)

Zombie

you don't know why
you're beside the bayou
but the bokor will spice the fire with datura
and the smoke will burn your lungs
just like the barrel's char spices rum
and strong liquor burns your tastebuds

the loa will arrive, and
fear will clutch your loins
as fruit is squeezed to yield the juice
lime for cowardice (and citrus)
pineapple for wealth (and sacrifice)

the loa will come to you,
come over you
slowly
as the bouquet of brandy
fills the snifter and your nostrils
you will feel it in your mouth and
on your tongue
you will feel it ride you, guide you
like the jockey guides the horse
or the bartender the pour

the loa will remind you
of the needlessness of saying no
of decorum, of inhibitions
of not laughing, of not dancing
of all that confines and restrains you
of your clothes

and when it leaves, you'll be alone,
remorseful, and hung over
but all you've done will be the loa's work
you won't be guilty
for you were just a passenger, just a drinker
just a zombie
and you walked into that boardwalk bar
fully planning to order just the one

[Acolyte]

Saltwater

a weeklong conference ends
the sun, too, sets over the Gulf of Mexico
and even white sand between my toes
cannot bring my mind back from California
from you, because

you love the ocean like a child does
like these children do, playing,
throwing footballs and frisbees,
body surfing, running, laughing,
poking at the white sand

but in my selfishness I see you instead
in the beachgoing adults, near-naked couples
the waves of pecs and biceps
the swells of glutes and more
the surges that accompany a gentle touch,
a lazy laugh, a secret shared on the open beach

as chilling as the sunset is the realization
that even if you were somehow here
our touching and our laughter would be guarded
our love unshared with others on this beach

[Speug]

The first two were so much fun and then the third brought me up short. ‘CAUTION’ is wonderful – I was thinking, “Oh well, that’s a cute idea” and then the last line changed the whole thing. ‘You’ve got Mail’ is effectively understated, especially S3. Thanks for posting it.

[Donner]

Hi, Acolyte,

Are there lessons I can take to write like this? Glad you caught up, we need more.

Leave it to a man to say it was the liquor that made him do/say whatever he's apologizing for. Not only is "Mythtakes" a great title, but the poem is a tour de force.

"He Forgot Even His Husband's Name" - I've had several relatives die with Alzheimer's and have relatives now dealing with varying degrees of dementia. I don't think I've read a more concise and poignant description of the process than these lines:

a diagnosis not of death
but of unbeing,

And "Capture the Flag" is a well-done, affectionate and well-drawn memory. Brothers, I take it, but we sisters had our own versions.

Donner

[Acolyte]

Speug--thanks for fluff, glad to get a response. Donner--as always every April, your praise is like manna: sustaining. Looking back over these, the lesson seems to be alliteration and off-rhyme. Take that as you wilt. "Capture the Flag" I actually meant as kink, but you're not the first person to read innocent out of it. I thought the last line was over the top dirty, but it appears it crossed the meridian back into playful fun.

Celebration of Life

your widow is in the dining room
talking about finding you floating, facedown
and we are all trying not to listen
to the cracking in her voice

outside there are burgers and beers
incongruous and also inappropriate
clusters of your friends and hers
agglomerate and separate
cohesion seems inappropriate too

your widow is making plans
to ship your body back to Brazil
where your parents wait, grieving
and I wonder, are they weeping?

is all your family gathered
for cliché Brazilian overgrief,
howling in the velório,
fighting the forty-eight hour legal limit
grappling with a two day deadline on their loss?

or are they as modern,
as sedate, as sedentary as a cookout
a lawn party swirling around a widow
who, so bravely, pretends that your drowning
has not left her less than half alive?






(used a prompt from another source, to add a culture foreign to your own to the poem; my recently deceased friend was Brazilian, and other than his love of football, I realized writing this how little I knew of his upbringing. Some l research l links)

[Acolyte]

You Don't Have To Go Home But You Can't Stay Here

please, sir, not another pour!
but it's been good tonight, sir, so
maybe just one more

tomorrow I'll be sore
and talking in a burr, so
please, sir, not another pour

but, sir, I could use one more
and I won't cause a stir, so
maybe just one more

she hates how I'm a whiskeyvore
and I can't upset her, so
please, sir, not another pour

she says that I can be a boor
so what if I were? so?
maybe just one more

and after, to the liquor store
they've forties at two bucks per, so
please, sir, not another pour.
maybe just one more