I’ll admit to an initial problem with the coos and whos of doves. But soon I came to like this sport of universal and the particular. Even Miles Davis is brought in to solo. And not gratuitously, but in accordance with its music. And the ending just about rescues the dove embarrassment from way back there so very far away in that kind of shaky beginning.
Sounding Aboard the Rafaella by Rex Wilder
We’re on the sea of metaphor here but its captain seems courageous and proficient. It’s a love poem in despair for lust. Is that a bawdy enjambment or am I over-analyzing? But there is no pause in that second stanza. And the craft is washed complete ashore.
Sunlight or Sunshining by Erik Sweet
I like the metaphysical simplicity that overwhelms a single sighting of this poem’s moving target. I hate that third stanza though, although I think I understand its reason for being. But things, I think, recover nicely, slowly, until we arrive at some acceptance of reality. Not chaos, but mystified creation.
No comments:
Post a Comment