Unfinished Sketch

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Bernie01
Posts: 777
Joined: 30 Jul 2015, 11:14

Unfinished Sketch

#1 Post by Bernie01 » 14 Dec 2017, 03:57

hi Frank---


many thanks.

i like your comments and have applied them almost whole cloth in the revision.

searching now for that missing link that might bind all three sketches into something more organic.

bernie


Revised #1

I

The fish weave behind our ancient boat,
the Sargasso Sea heats and stops.
Lassitude grows in the cast off void
of featureless domains.

The fish hold us back, birds will not pull
with their wings.

I am alone.
Old stars burn out, a growing sense
of separation from men, the dulled ability
to love, a torpor, and failed sense of self;

rain balks and never drops.
Sky without change, a flight of white birds
open pearl beaks to sieve purled air.





I

The fish slow behind our ancient boat
and the Sargasso Sea heats and stops.
Lassitude grows in the cast off void
of featureless domains; I think of home
but fish hold us back, birds will not pull
with their wings. I am alone again
with old stars burning out, a growing sense
of separation from men, the dulled ability
to love, a torpor, and failed sense of self;
rain that balks and never drops.
Sky without change, a flight of white birds
open pearl beaks to sieve purled air.


II

Luc
is the name of a former husband.
She owns both a Bonnard,
and a Jasper Johns.

When I remove her dress,
she is badly wrinkled.
The sex polar white, hairless,
tasteless and without odor.

She is almost 70, maybe older.
I think of literature when
she talks. She is tolerant
of my sexual failures.

I fix her a pipe and lock
the veranda doors as I leave.
An aria from Madama Butterfly
pours down the driveway.

Enough dope in the trunk
of my car for two life sentences.


III

As though we listen to our lives on radio.
We read from a menu, change our mind;

write down telephone numbers promising
to call. Spell our name, make corrections.

Just when we want to stay, it is time to go.
Ticket stubs on a dresser, computer messages.
Sudden awareness of six-o'clock.
Days folded and double into themselves,
scattered debris in the dimming afternoon.

We piss away our lives preparing to speak.
The radio slowly drifts from a station.

BobBradshaw
Posts: 2683
Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03

Re: Unfinished Sketch

#2 Post by BobBradshaw » 15 Dec 2017, 04:08

I see these stories told by 3 different speakers. There is
more impact for me if I read them as 3 separate poems. By far
the last one has more punch, and is so contemporary in its
subject matter. The language is scintillating, the lines all
bound beautifully together. I would publish it as is. The metaphor
of the radio station is perfect for the topic.

FranktheFrank
Posts: 1983
Joined: 02 Mar 2016, 18:07
Location: Between the mountains and the sea

Re: Unfinished Sketch

#3 Post by FranktheFrank » 16 Dec 2017, 16:01

I see you
experimenting.
I would not like
to read these as 3 separate POEMS
I WOULD HOWEVER ENJOY MORE IF YOU LINKED THEM
so we could identify the connection.

How to link them
this is gonna be difficult
yet the merest strand could do it.

I have read enough and seen enough cast away films and books
to recognise this first strophe as a fair representation
of the that sorry lot, to be cast away with little hope.

The fish slow behind our ancient boat [maybe weave slowly behind our waterlogged boat]
and the Sargasso Sea heats and stops. [cut and?]
Lassitude grows in the cast off void [lassitude overwhelms in this cast-away void]
of featureless domains; I think of home [of a featureless domain-full stop]
but fish hold us back, birds will not pull [Fish . . .]
with their wings.

I am alone [cut again]
with [cut with] old stars burn [cut ing] out, a growing sense
of separation from men, the dulled ability
to love, a torpor, and failed sense of self;
rain that balks and never drops. love this last line - rain that balks the drop?]
Sky without change, a flight of white birds
open pearl beaks to sieve purled air.

How to link; I am shipwrecked
white flossy hair, she takes me home
we make love in moonlight . . .

the second is perfect, even the dope makes sense.

The last even more so.
people lead parallel lives
I see myself in ten years
sad, but better to go on
than drop too soon.

I see the radio, it gets better every time, like an old friend popping up everywhere

I thought this very brave and you carry it off well:

I remove her dress, [remove when]
she is wrinkled. [remove badly]
The sex polar white, hairless, [her sex . . .]
tasteless and without odor. [a faint taste, mild smell, but nice]

Very good.

Bernie01
Posts: 777
Joined: 30 Jul 2015, 11:14

Re: Unfinished Sketch

#4 Post by Bernie01 » 16 Dec 2017, 21:51

I

The fish weave behind our ancient boat,
the Sargasso Sea heats and stops.
Lassitude grows in the cast off void
of featureless domains.

The fish hold us back, birds will not pull
with their wings.

I am alone.
Old stars burn out, a growing sense
of separation from men, the dulled ability
to love, a torpor, and failed sense of self;

rain balks and never drops.
Sky without change, a flight of white birds
open pearl beaks to sieve purled air.

FranktheFrank
Posts: 1983
Joined: 02 Mar 2016, 18:07
Location: Between the mountains and the sea

Re: Unfinished Sketch

#5 Post by FranktheFrank » 19 Dec 2017, 02:23

Fish weave behind our ancient boat,
the Sargasso Sea heats and stops.
Lassitude grows in the cast off void
of featureless domains.

The fish hold us back, birds will not pull
with their wings.

I am alone.
Old stars burn out, a growing sense
of separation from mankind, the dulled ability
to love, a torpor that fails the sense of self;

rain balks and never drops.
Sky without change, a flight of white birds
open pearl beaks to sieve purled air.

Cast up an a coral archipelago
a woman with white hair
covers my nakedness
I suck life from her
soft brown breast, I live.
*****

I love it, engrossed with it,
some suggestions, discard or use at your leisure.

BobBradshaw
Posts: 2683
Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03

Re: Unfinished Sketch

#6 Post by BobBradshaw » 19 Dec 2017, 21:45

I believe the poem works better with the phrase ‘I think of home but...’. I like the breaking up of stanzas...best

Bernie01
Posts: 777
Joined: 30 Jul 2015, 11:14

Re: Unfinished Sketch

#7 Post by Bernie01 » 21 Dec 2017, 05:04

Revision...

I


Fish weave behind our ancient boat,
the Sargasso Sea heats and stops.
Lassitude grows in the cast off void.

Old stars burn out, a growing sense
of separation, dulled ability to love,
a torpor falls heavy as shadow.

Rain balks and never drops.
Unchanging sky. A flight of white birds
open pearl beaks to sieve purled air.

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