Woman in a Mexican restaurant
I should not have looked at you
when you leaned back in your chair,
arms up--not in the way I did.
I should not have thought about a creek,
Old Seventy, in that moment,
but I did. The creek mirrors shadows
& sunlight thru hardwood trees,
naked in winter, to stress the worthiness
of life. My eyes loafed at ease in the
manner of Walt Whitman & much too far.
I remember watching two
hawks coming in toward the creek, their
wings unmoving like a poem hid-
den in your eyes. I am a poet. The creek
is but water cold & moving, invent-
ing the illusion that shadows
move. Where the sycamore trees
lean out & over it & below the surface less
than the thickness of cloth covering the
rise of your breasts, there is a gravel bar.
Author notes
Written November 15th, 2006
What did you think
Comments
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The question I have is, do you set yourself the parameters of structure ahead of time, or do they begin to immerge, then you go with them?
I was reading Marianne Moore in the summer, and noticed her strange line breaks, and of course suspected they were not random. I was quite proud of myself for noticing her syllabic structure. Here, in your poem, the clues are also in your line breaks. I started by counting syllables, but not finding consistency, I looked for consistency between the stanzas . . . and there I found the rhyme scheme.
Just thought you might be interested in how one reader has figured out the puzzle.
Anyhow, all that is just one level of reading. I think that the gift is in creating image and emotion in a poem such that the reader doesn't think to look for structure, such that the structure is just a bonus, really. That you have done here.
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I really appreciate you for your comments. They help me hone my craft so to speak.
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I could not be as respectful as you, Lute... I think of the poet as either Whitman or Walt, but in this poem I could not use either name by itself. The cold & moving is the way of Old Seventy Creek, coming out of the ground at a constant temperature year round. It will turn a body blue, even in summer. Thanks for reading & sharing your vision of poetry as you do so well.
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I make up all my own stuff when reading. Forgive me. Vivid imagination.
Your description adds a dimension this simple-brained reader might have never found...
and I will enjoy reading it again. -
I really appreciate your words: "sly sexy poems" & I do take that as a compliment. Thank you...
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The last line is the submerged body of the poem, the woman, the creek--or is, in fact, a gravel bar since Old Seventy Creek is not sandy--or is only the necessary rhyme needed to finish that invisible structure of rhymes placed so far removed from each other that the poem appears to have no craft, no structure, tho it is rigid, not free verse at all?
I meant to describe the creek, from memory, its images burned into my memory. The gravel bar is real & so near the surface but it can not be seen clearly. I meant to describe the woman as well--describe her as the catalyst that brought back the memory & more...
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Last line ok.
I would have said Mr. Whitman, (Lute vurry respectful)
The creek<, I think,
is but water cold & moving,
don't know why I would put that in there, just seems to fit
the mood of the poem.
Grand, moody. -
Course you should have. Silly.
I'm having slight trouble with the last line -- maybe it is supposed to be unsettling to tie the longing for nature and woman together but gravel bar doesn't seem breasty too me. Sandy bar seems softer but maybe Old 70 is gravely not sandy. Is it the curve you are aiming to describe? The jutting of the surface?
I like the sound of surface and thickness. You write sly sexy poems. They are slightly adorable but definitely more than that. But sorry that word just kind of seems to fit. It is definitely meant as a compliment.
I like a nice taco salad with black beans. I like staring but not in a rude way in a fondness type of way. I hope Ed, when his moustache is elected President of Poem World, does not ban staring at poems. Because I often do.
Remeber having staring contests as kids?
I must find the invisible form. I'm bad at those things. Excuse me while I stare.
Lisa -
I agree... I am pleased that you could call this poem a great one. It is another of my invisible structure poems & yes, it was meant to convey longing--longing for nature & natural (creek & woman). I thank you again...
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Sometime, I think probably very early in our human evolution, staring became an indecent act.
I'll bet you right now that, in the not too distant future, some genius will write up a bill that bans it in public, and it will eventually pass into law.
anyway that has nothing to do with anything. But this poem. A great one. It conveys the longing.
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