He came at my request, at last. And in reply to my, "What is it?"
said grimly, taking a close look at me—
"Look, it's as if someone's stippled a sunset here, & mixed in ravens;
stars don't shine but snarl and snake
The bass that bite lie dead with their pink gills open, washed ashore,
and say, 'Take the spinners from my heart'
Jays crowd round the jagged moon, or else go careering off by themselves:
I see their crests through skeletal clouds
And in the tree's gnarly sac the heartless soulless eyes of a crab appear,
or heartless lily bees
The sun that tenderly and shyly eggs on shoots, somewhere somehow
leaves a pale blackberry soil
And where there used to be the ash-tree's calm is an oak's monstrous face,
spongy & scaly, not a drop of resin left"
Sweeping his hand over my back, a final time, he finally said grimly,
in reply to my "What can it be?"
"The soulless crab that moves low in the night, over gravel roads, stiff-legged
will burrow soon & lie with the heart

9 comments:
Excellent!
Thank you, William.
A fanciful piece inspired by a visit to the dermatologist.
neat... every line has multiplicities AND possibilities... 'CEPT
you talk/say/intrude too much... (for my taste..
I can tell a "good" poem (since you ask how I do this) by wheter or knot I want to "steal" from it and make'em parts of
something otherwise.
GAWD I hate them visits to the dermatologist... I knew one onc-t
but
she ran off with a guy named Pimple!
hang in...
Thanks, Ed!
I do get long-winded in some of my poetry: it's just me. It's really hard for me to talk the scalpel to my stuff. You'd think I'd know better after my brief stint in Eastern writing.
well
you're not "doing" Eastern writing...
you're on the verge of "stepping" out..
print the piece out so's you can "work it" on a real piece of paper..
It's not about you it s about the process and the playing with the words...
you neglect the spaces
and
as every Poet knows (or should...know (noh)
the spaces ARE just as important as the words...
anyway if I wasn't so damn stuck with this trying to do a
The Collected Blog Comments of Eddie Baker
I would
do you compose your poems on the computer?
don't you yet real:eyes
that
your computer is CONNECTED and CONTROLLED by The Power Company!
heck, They still execute people in The Electric Chair etc.
habits the good ones and the bad ones
ain't so easy to drop..
might as well "paint by the numbers" and be just like Mike-ie!
I hear ya...
I marvel at how you, Eigner and Martone, et al do it so consistently. I don't have the patience: too time-conscious. It's perhaps, as you say, the craftsmanship we've lost with the online writing.
Well, my “Excellent!” still stands. I’m quite content, really, with there being Ed Baker poems and Conrad DiDiodato poems. The world’s a better place for both of them.
hey say
thanx,
Bill
y'all know where
i can get a pair of
red sus-
pendhers
not the skinny
one
the wide one
gonna (try to) change my
image
just in case
goin' w the
Roebuck jeans w
rolled-up cuffs
the plaid ALL cotton heavy shirt
argyles and
buster-brown loafers
a straw cowboys' hat
a corn-cop pipe to suck
on
look..
y'all can hardly get asingle
dambed Corn Pone thing here abouts Washington, D.C
anymore....
this poem has give emotions! thank you
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