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Best left unsaid (trust first instincts edit, w/thanks) (Free verse) by ecargo My tongueâs loose slide
would soon let slip
this truth,
bruised blue,
behind these sentinel teeth.
We meet. Touch. Fuck.
We seldom speak much
more than surface gloss--
from niceties to wordless
heat, we move.
With your hand
warm on my neck,
I swallow words
thick with promise,
glistening like larva trapped
in tissue webs, my palate
ridged as a whale's.
Words grow
pallid as mushrooms
in the echoless dark,
slick with the sweat of caves.
I want to devour you,
a carnal glide,
deep as a worm,
down,
down,
in my rich earth.
Up the ladder:
When I Sleep Alone
Down the ladder:
The wise
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 9.75
Posted: January 20, 2006 2:29 PM PST; Last modified: January 23, 2006 7:36 PM PSTWeighted score: 5.566214 Overall Rank: 2435 Comments:
Where's she been. I miss getting slapped around.
And some seem unfamiliar, even with comments going back several years, and only a few recent poems, as if maybe they changed their usernames and perhaps deleted the older poems. Okay to turn over a new leaf, but who are they?
Yes, I'm still mourning the loss of Rockmage.
I have a terminal case of writer's block. That, along with my horror at reading my previous comments was enough to keep me away.
When first I left, i'd check the site occasionally for anything worth reading, but we all know what a shot in the dark that is. I haven't visited the site in about 10 months. How serendipitous. The poem is good. "Sentinel teeth" has a complexity of meaning and it's placed wonderfully between bruising & fucking. (Oh how our bodies do betray us) It's an honest poem. I can feel it. It's human. "Trapped in tissue webs" is sensual, that along with the following line is spot on. Anatomically accurate and emotional all at once.
By the way, you should try submitting this. I'll read your others, right now I've got another engagement. Chiao.
You did conjure me, absolutely.
The words are perfect. Maybe you can mess around with the structure so you're happier with it, but the images are powerful and consistent. The first time i read this I understood the palate to be compared to a the whale's ribs somehow. now I see it's to the whale's own palate. I just automatically pictured a rib cage just under the whales skin. Hmmmm. Is the last verse in future tense? The rest seems all present. In the fourth line it's future tense. Maybe instead of 'would' 'will' might work there a little better. Maybe 'a palate should be 'your palate' or 'my palate'. My tongueâs loose slide will soon let slip this truth, bruised blue behind these sentinel teeth. We meet, touch, fuck. But we seldom speak more than surface gloss-- From niceties to wordless heat. We move With your hand warm on my neck. I swallow words thick with promise, and glistening like larva trapped in tissue webs, my palate ridged as a whale's. Words that grow pallid like mushrooms in that echoless dark, made slick with the sweat of caves. I devour you, A carnal glide, soft as a worm, down, down, in my rich earth.
Gah! Line breaks. Fucking line breaks.
All the line breaks in the world don't hide that this is essentially lyrical and rhythmically simple. My suggestion: re-line-break it to highlight the rhythm, don't worry about shocking us with single-word lines. We're clearly not shocked.
I just thought narrowing it would make the poem a little more phallic. But the original was tougher to read through. Where in heavens were you when we needed you man.
I appreciated your suggestions! I don't play around with the layout nearly enough, and I changed a few things simply because the different layout made me realize some weaknesses. So don't take my reversal as any kind of slam on your suggestion. It helped me. A lot. And I'm grateful that you took the time to think about it.
Longer, narrower layouts scream to me, "workshop!" With a lot of journals explicitly rejecting workshopped or workshopped-feeling poems now, it's gotten to be kind of a catch-22: sure the crowd here likes it - but aren't we part of the problem?
The problem being . . . what, exactly? The workshop-y results?
Why do you think journals are rejecting workshopped poems? Is it the sameness of voice, do you think? (Is there a sameness of voice? It seems to me as if there is, but I don't read a lot of poetry journals; most of what I read is in non-poetry-specific mags like The New Yorker and Yankee Mag, etc.--i.e., pubs w/ a history of, but not a focus on, poetry.) I don't mind longer, "nontrad" layouts or odd breaks if there's a purpose to it, but I think you're right that it's done more for "shock" value or "to be different" (though it's been done and done and done for ages now) than for any purposeful, thoughtful reasons.
I think there is a sameness of voice. (You don't see it reading journals because journal selections, as a rule, aren't workshopped; you see it from watching a lot of workshops.) The almost-inevitable result of workshopping IS a uniform blandness. Think of the poems you've workshopped: This guy says, I'm not so sure about your use of 'fuck' - isn't there a better word? This one says pallid as mushrooms seems a bit cliche; this one says he doesn't get ridged as a whale's mouth. This one says explore the sex imagery more; this one'd like more violence imagery. This says he didn't get it; this says it's too obvious. If you listen, your voice isn't your own; the poem's, um, unity is compromised. It's like democracy: with all the great inspired leaders and individuals in our midst, how do we end up electing the blandest, most anonymous President?
I'm not saying don't workshop. I'm saying put something out for the first reaction, like or dislike, and to catch big mistakes. When people say they want shorter lines or more sex, don't change the poem you posted; write another one using their ideas, see what they think of that. Even then, half the time you'll get one responder who hates your poem for every one who loves it - so that, after all the workshops in the world, it's still the loneliest profession.
Good point. This is why I rarely change my poems. I just use the suggestioins as consideration for my next poem. I really just wanted ecargo to experiment with her layout and pick what she liked. So many times people write their poems and then don't even think about trying different things after they finish the first draft. I bet you go through about 7 or 8 drafts before you consider one of your stories complete.
No harm no foul. No I really wasn't expecting you to use the format I suggested. I just wanted you to 'er-uhm' play with it
and see what you could come up with. I'm more likely to nitpick a better poem like this one than a bad one.
Like your new screen name.
I don't like the fact that "fuck" is the most powerful word in this poem. It kind of throws off everything else. Probably because the words leading up to it are so much less agressive. I'd just replace it with a synonym. And if it could rhyme with "teeth" that would be awesome.
Fuck is a hard word to match or overpower, true--not just the shock value (if it still has any), but in the very harshness of its sound. But if I used a synonym, or a euphemism, I think I'd lose the point that, between them, it is just an agreed-upon fuck, nothing more fluffy or meaningful or emotional (on his part) than that, despite the fact that she secretly craves more. But I'll think about what you said, and thanks for taking the time to comment.
Btw--your stuff is good (lowball votes notwithstanding). 274 view(s)
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I'm not that happy with the layout though. Play with it for a while(pun-alert!) and see what comes out.
Like:
My tongue's
loose
slide
would soon
let slip this truth,
bruise-blue,
kept fast behind
these sentinal teeth.
We meet,
touch,
fuck;
we seldom speak much more
than surface gloss.
From niceties
to wordless heat
we move. Here
with your big
hand warm on my neck,
I swallow
words thick with promise,
glistening like larva
trapped in tissue webs,
a palate ridged as a whale's.
I'd consume you
whole, take you deep,
sliding
soft as a worm,
down
down
in a sudden
gasp.
Yeah, I think many english teachers make a mistake in teaching free verse before conventional poetry simply because it's easier.
You must first learn to paint like Michelangelo before you can paint like Picasso.
You've got a great foundation to build off from.
I only wish you had a more comfortably addressable screen name.
I just remembered reading an article somewhere about how that's the way english teachers are doing it now.
I do remember being taught metaphor, simile, etc. in school though.