All Our Trees Are Evergreen
Jun. 3rd, 2003 09:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ursulaI keep trying to write cherry-tree poems, and it never works; thousands of years of haiku have doomed me to failure. Here's the same attempt, twice.
A hangover is a young man studying law and blinding light, his servant mixing eggs and rum and milk that slide past knifing headache into the brain. Not this faint film, this sense that eleven is too much morning. Yesterday’s coffee in a dirty mug, long trudge downstairs to a cheese-coated microwave. No light to blind, the halls are dim. There are no windows until the walk upstairs again; then suddenly a tree with flowers, white, all separate and bright-edged.
Hangover is a young man studying
law and blinding light, his servant mixing
eggs and rum and milk
slide past knifing headache
to the brain.
Not this faint film, this sense
eleven’s too much morning.
Yesterday’s coffee, dirty mug,
long trudge downstairs, cheese-coated microwave.
No light to blind, the halls are dim. No windows
until the walk upstairs again; and then
a tree with flowers, white,
all separate and bright-edged.
A hangover is a young man studying law and blinding light, his servant mixing eggs and rum and milk that slide past knifing headache into the brain. Not this faint film, this sense that eleven is too much morning. Yesterday’s coffee in a dirty mug, long trudge downstairs to a cheese-coated microwave. No light to blind, the halls are dim. There are no windows until the walk upstairs again; then suddenly a tree with flowers, white, all separate and bright-edged.
Hangover is a young man studying
law and blinding light, his servant mixing
eggs and rum and milk
slide past knifing headache
to the brain.
Not this faint film, this sense
eleven’s too much morning.
Yesterday’s coffee, dirty mug,
long trudge downstairs, cheese-coated microwave.
No light to blind, the halls are dim. No windows
until the walk upstairs again; and then
a tree with flowers, white,
all separate and bright-edged.
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(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-04 06:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-04 07:03 am (UTC)Overall I think the begining is stronger than the end, though the last line does punch.
this sense that elven is too much morning does sing for me, for all that some might complain of excess words (I got real sick of hearing in my recent poetry class that you should never use articles if you can help it...) I think I'd keep the full line, with conversational overtones, or reduce it to simply "Eleven is too much morning".
"slide past knifing headache into the brain" - I would cut knifing- seems one modifier too many. Or substitute knifing for slide... hrm...
The weakest part, in my mind, is "No light to blind, the halls are dim. There are no windows until the walk upstairs again" - too literal, too much description of what is NOT there.
The strongest image for me are the first two, the hangover being a young law student and the mixed eggs rum and milk - very visceral ingredients there.
Just a few thoughts from a wanna-be poet. Hope they help!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-04 07:52 am (UTC)hmm, bet you never expected to see me here
Date: 2003-06-04 08:22 am (UTC)Re: hmm, bet you never expected to see me here
Date: 2003-06-04 09:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-04 09:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-06-04 09:16 am (UTC)Re: hmm, bet you never expected to see me here
Date: 2003-06-04 10:56 am (UTC)Re: hmm, bet you never expected to see me here
Date: 2003-06-04 10:31 pm (UTC)Re: hmm, bet you never expected to see me here
Date: 2003-06-04 10:34 pm (UTC)Re: hmm, bet you never expected to see me here
Date: 2003-06-05 06:00 am (UTC)If you want a livejournal let me (or Ursula) know, I have a ton of extra codes.