Home Truths

[5th column]

This is Not


somehow

a humming-
bird furiously still

at the sugar

water suspended

on the other side
of the glass, or a drunk

on the sidewalk

sleeping out
the middle of the day,
nights, treacled
in the suspension

of his own making
under the pool
of a street
light. But declaring

what it isn’t won’t
let the bridesmaids slip
the dandelion’s grasp
any more than a breath

from the slim throat
of the oboe emerging
from the lips of a wolf.

[5th column]

And the Devil Went Down to Georgia



We were at the glowing gates and the devil
said. Welcome! From now for all eternity. I

looked at him: white hair net, worn
at a quirky angle concealing a receding
hairline and two small bumps
either side and just forward of the crown,

horn-rim glasses, bent bridge held together

with a discolored band-aid, lenses, even
in the everlasting shade of autumn light,

clearly covered in fingerprints and dust, his
lab coat a little shabby and in need of a wash

and brown Hushpuppies, their laces
frayed, missing the plastic ends, and said
Wotcher! Will you forgive a question?
Whatchawannado, son, he said. phone
a friend? Then. Why not? Pushing up the glasses
by the bridge with a liver-spotted hand.

How long have Adam and Eve been here
already? I asked. Now, that’s a good’un!
He said, and fanned the fingers of his
right hand across his lips until
he cupped his chin.

Do you mean in absolute, traditional terms
characterized by the entirely subjective
reduction of combined time and space
into perceived units of measurement
relative to all eternity? Which is to say
an arbitrary answer devoid of all meaning
other than to anyone unable to discern

the grand span of the immortal infinite?
Hmmmm, I said, can I have a moment to
think that through? Of course. He said.
I’m not completely unreasonable.
How long do you need?

[JFN]

Neil, the linebreaks in Home Truths caused me a bit of issue at first, but I think it is growing on me as I re-read. furiously still seems apposite for a hummingbird. There's a saccharine feel to this, almost sickly sweet in the middle, in contrast to the truth of it, as echoed by the unusual closing image. Interesting.

The last two S's of And the Devil... has me chuckling. My kind of question.

[Bench]

Hi Neil, nights, treacled/ in the suspension/ of his own making is superb, implies for me the inescapable heaviness of drinking until comatose every night. I chuckled with delight at your last, love that Satan is a lab tech/ pharmacist. Good work.

[Maggie Lawson]

Hiya Neil,

Both these poems are so jam-packed! The imagery is very Alice-in-Wonderland in Home Truths and I loved that. And the Devil Went Down to Georgia is a lot of fun to read with the dialogue being especially rich. The clever construction of the devil, with his bold imagery and sparkling personality , really sold it for me.

I'm excited to see what you'll bring next!

regards Maggie

[anenome]

Hello Neil, Home Truths delivers with a self-assuredness that had me nodding my head at its wise teachings, those last two stanzas mesmerise me!

[kbjariel]

Hi Neil,

I kept going back to the "hummingbird furiously still" in "Home Truths" because it was so unexpected. It's actually kind of an apt symbol for the idea of defining an emotion in terms of what it is not. A hummingbird moves so quickly it doesn't seem to be moving at all, but oh, is it ever moving. Same with the last image--it seemed strange and perfect.

In "And the Devil...," I LOVE coming up with new and contemporary rungs of Hell, and imagining the Devil, himself as a disheveled lab tech is awesome. It's profound and funny--I almost wish I could see him doing something, though--breaking a microscope slide, filling an empty syringe with air and pushing it out over and over, etc.

KJ

[glaucon]

5th,

Much enjoyed both so far. Home Truths reads as a seminar (at least for me) in how to break short lines and keep things clean and tight. Loved the closing oboe/wolf image.

I also had a blast with Georgia. A perfect ending.

Just as a curious side note, I'd suggest taking a glance at a NaPo poem from many eons ago by my good buddy, Dunc. I know he's greatly missed from these environs, but have encouraging word that he'll be back anon. Anyways, I offer this as an interesting side note to the genre you've both chosen (not to upstage your brilliant little dramedy): a dialogue with His Mephistolic Naughtiness: In the Study of Dr Faust

Looking forward to more.

Charles

[5th column]

Thanks one and al. The oboe is a reference to Peter and the Wolf (the oboe is the voice of the wolf), which was playing in the background as I wrote.




rain on the window
a drop leaves its history
to evaporate


such profound longing
fork tines in the sod
a robin handles


almost being
able to buy
these things I want

simply being
able to know
the things I need


can you imagine
all the world’s borders
concretely defined

[Donner]

Hi, Neil,

I had the same issue at first as John with the line breaks of "This is Not" - That's not right! We don't do that sort of thing! - But why not when the results speak for themselves? I have a hummingbird feeder hanging outside my kitchen window; "furiously still" is a perfect description for their hovering ability.

Satan. He has nothing but time at this point. And he would prefer, I think, to come off looking eccentric and "a little shabby".

These last three - three separate thoughts or tied together? Either or, each stands on its own, "a drop leaves its history" and S3 in particular.

Donna

[anenome]

The haiku each deliver a momentary pause, especially the second for me, the fork tines, the robin and the play on ‘handles’ and the last for its political edge!

[GreaterMandalaofUselessness]

Hi Neil,

This is not a love poem. Or it wasn't the first time I read it. Rereading this morning, I missed the opening (possibly in part because it had me humming PiL's "This is not a love song"), but also because it gives me a way into the poem -- a way of making sense of the imagery and metaphor that follows. Still, if it's going, I think "somehow" is a weaker opening. You might consider moving "somehow" into the title: "Somehow this is not" then you start on the visual (and auditory) images of humming and humming bird. There are a lot of double reads packed into the enjambments, and like John I found that the constant wrong-footing/reorienting heavy going on my first read, but returning to it, I started to enjoy the density of multiple meanings/images shifting and mixing into one another: sugar becoming sugar water, the humming bird suspended, then the water suspended.

And the devil went down to Georgia I enjoyed this absurdist outing. Love the dishevelled ageing devil an his hair net and enjoyed the Who wants to be a millionaire setting and the penultimate stanza's philosophical turn, and the devil's reasonableness at the end. An expected set of ingredients nicely cooked up in an underground lab somewhere no doubt.

Just spotted the haiku. Love the double read #3 -- The obvious one versus the N as an "almost being" able to buy what he wants (and possibly an "almost being" because he is able to do so) -- or that being to buy what one wants is a state of almost being.

Matt

[5th column]

Thanks once again to Matt, John, Anenome and Donner for your visits and kind words



Because

they woke to a kind of longing expressed
as need, they took, amidst the night-damp linen
knots, before the sun had time to wash its face
or breeze push through the sash to dry the sweat.
And after, while she sat in the kitchen, fretting
over work mail and the bills, he drove down to the lake;
torpid mist stifling reflection while pine cones
cracked in the sand and dragonflies,
luminous automatons, moved two squares forward
one across, until one settled on a beckoning reed
while another floated by on interlocking
wings that only touched at rest.

[kbjariel]

Hi there,

Poem 3: I've always admired successful haiku-writers. There's something very beautiful about so much meaning in under-determined, deceptively simple language, and the fact that you've linked a few of these together is a huge accomplishment as far as I'm concerned.

Poem 4: "[B]efore the sun had time to wash its face / or breeze push through the sash to dry the sweat" is a beautiful image--one I kept rereading because I liked it so much. I might play with the line breaks a bit; it might be more effective and easier on the eyes to have one main image per line, bu that may also be a stylistic preference on my part. The last actions of the dragonflies are a great mirror to the opening image and actions. Thanks for sharing these.

Karen

[5th column]

Ritual

Joggers jog
against the rising sun.
The Tanah Merah - Batam
ferry leaves and in its wake
a tug boat bridge bobs
with the laughing Indian
gardeners attending to the grass
by a palm contrived to lean
over the blue. Coffee percolates
and above the din a Mynah sings:
Take it all down.
Take it all down.