Hi, d-pend ☻
I’m gladly surprised because you’ve mentioned me in your comment to @hlezama (who is a dear friend of mine). And I’m also delighted after reading this piece. I particularly loved this part:
Arrive at town square—
nick of noon, the sun prowling.
I laugh, shake my head,
see sorrow off:
scowling.
This is just beautifully appalling. I can see sorrow scowling like a little creature of the night, which has been forced to see the light of a shiny day (I’ll bet the little monster loses; sunlight is hope, it is too powerful).
After all the youth of midday has a long way ahead and the soft lights and winds of the early afternoon to come will bring the comfort of gained experience, of errors left behind, of pleasures one wants to relive, and hopefully, others yet to come. There’s plenty of time before nighttime—the greatest legacy is just a trace doomed or blessed with brevity, and ladies can buy their own bonnets.
Your poem has left me thinking. What a marvelous thing!
Great commentary, Marlyn! I also really appreciated the one above where you obliged to comment a bit about the poetic rhythm. I'd love to get more knowledgeable about those technical terms as I find them fascinating.
"Beautifully apalling," what a phrase! I sometimes wonder if there's something wrong with me: paradox makes me feel giddy, an odd sort of melancholic glee. It's almost a sort of triumph: that by the conflation of concepts not normally deemed compatible we retrieve a ray of light previously invisible.
That is a very thought-provoking way to end off, so it appears your reply has had a similar effect on me as the poem in question had upon you. A marvelous thing indeed, and one of my favorite things about reading/writing: that it raises more questions than it answers, and thus helps expand our mind and spirits.
Indeed, I often find the thoughts in your poetry paradoxical. I guess it has to do with your deep contemplation of modern life as a replication of life in the past (our questioning, vices, pressures, expectations, want of order/chaos, etc., same old), as well as social life as a replication of natural life (one mirroring the other, sometimes openly, others surreptitiously). Let me tell you something, I love paradox and dialectics; I think they show us a truth we are not ready to understand yet: unity.
(And this is why I love William Blake’s work. His poems “The Lamb” and “The Tyger,” two contrasting images of Christ, remind me of some your work. The poet takes some pleasure in unveiling the contrast, but at the same time, there is sadness and anger.)