Monday, April 4, 2011

Perihelion Blinks into Aphelion

 
I keep expecting
That withering indignation
That gripping gurgling sigh
To exhale red-shifted light
Dimmed by cold
Catacombs to arrive

But the sun keeps setting and rising
Stretching the summer like a twisted rubber band
Of a toy balsa wood flyer
A child ratchets the blade
Round and round and round
Till red rubber turns
The color of old knuckles
Strato Streak

A yellowing leaf clouds
Over a glassy blue sky
The balsa plane lurches
Upward, outward, looping
A joyful smile turns
To a tragic overture

At Meeting House Lawns
The old Fosser leans on his shovel
Ogling vivid pinks, purples, and reds
As they peek over the western hills
The bitter hours approach
I embrace the emptiness
As the candle snuffs out



Here's a poem I found in my FB note box. It was composed, most likely at my then workplace Seattle Door & Window. The poem was dated 9/26/2009. The title, Perihelion Blinks was chosen by one of my Grade School / High School classmates Paul Nauman. I had forgotten about its existence till Paul sent me a note requesting a copy of it. I think I wrote this poem while listening to one of my favorite doom metal bands Evoken

You can listen to the song while you read over it if you want. I often listen to metal when I do keyboarding work. Sometimes when I listen to  Wolves in the Throne Room or other black metal bands, I become so swept away by its dark beauty, tears flood out from my eyes. I also, have this experience when I attend Mass at the St James Cathedral. It's the raw wall of sound generated by the pipe organ and musical arrangements from ages past that are the most moving. I never had this experience as a teenager. Then I was too impassioned by anger and the aggression of power metal to experience elegance in anything.

4 comments:

  1. If I were to critique this poem, I would say that there were major structural problems. But with me being the author of the thing, sometimes it is difficult to fix these things. And often the idea itself isn't worth the effort.

    This poem does have some tasty images in it, but I don't know. I guess that could be a reason to post it online. Get some feedback?

    ReplyDelete
  2. I think this is a better edit.

    I keep expecting
    a gripping gurgling sigh
    to exhale
    red-shifted light
    but the sun keeps setting
    and rising

    A child ratchets the propeller
    round and round and round
    till red rubber turns
    the color of old knuckles
    on a toy Strato Streak
    The machine lurches
    upward, outward, looping
    a joyful smile turns
    to withered indignation

    At Meeting House Lawns
    the wizened fosser leans on a shovel
    ogling vivid pinks, purples, and reds
    as they lower their eyes
    down the western hills
    the bitter hours approach
    I embrace the emptiness
    the candle snuffs out


    What do you think? Should I trim out more?

    ReplyDelete
  3. Maybe this edit is more structurally sound:

    A child ratchets the propeller
    round and round and round
    till red rubber turns
    the color of old knuckles
    on a toy Strato Streak
    The machine lurches
    upward, outward, looping
    a joyful smile turns
    to withered indignation

    At Meeting House Lawns
    the wizened fosser leans on a shovel
    ogling vivid pinks, purples, and reds
    as they lower their eyes
    down the western hills
    the bitter hours approach
    I embrace the emptiness
    the candle snuffs out


    what do you think?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Here's my final edit. I hope you enjoyed the evolution of the critical process.

    Perihelion Blinks

    A child ratchets a propeller
    round and round and round
    till red rubber turns
    the color of knobby old knuckles

    At Aphelion Lawns
    a furrowed Fosser ogles
    oranges, violets, and vivid pinks

    The Strato Streak lurches
    upward, outward, looping
    a joyful smile changes
    to withered indignation

    Ecstasy lowers its lids
    smothering the west
    in obsidian sapphires

    The bitter hours approach
    I embrace emptiness
    the candle snuffs out


    ---William James

    ReplyDelete