Parabolas and Triangles. Great, white birches grasping this entropy -or attempting to- striking out from a dirty vase, white knuckles and blacks veins in this failing attempt, and I can only think of the rigid countours of my fingers fully extended and numb to music like notes are rapidly snapping off wildly and I cannot hold them all- (frail leaves drop from shaky branches) and one hand not able to reach far enough-- is trembling and naked. This obstacle what limits the shoots from which my roots are grown, is the geometry of being a birch tree stuck in a dirty vase at this time and I wonder when this stratified evidence will bleed off (I am playing on the schizophrenic tributaries of music; spilled ink on the coarse bark manuscript) and when I will die and rot away-- quietly rot away... and be the soft pulp of birch in the after-growth, the essence of dull chords, and perhaps even the hypoteneuse of a somewhat obtuse world, filled with the musical matter of.
Caroline Seagle's Questions:
1.) Is the poem thought-provoking or nebulous? Should I include more to try
and convey the deeper meanings of the poem and the metaphor I hoped to
present in it?
2.) Can the reader gain a sense of feeling trapped in an enclosed atmosphere? I hoped to carry a claustrophobic, uncomfortable air throughout the poem. Is the imagery helpful in doing so?
3.) How are the phrases in parantheses taken? Do they help to provide enclosure? They were also meant to introduce reality to the situation in a casual, more figurative way. I hoped that this would trigger a polar effect in the reader, however, and actually make the poem more dense... Does this work at all?
4.) Are too many ideas presented? Do the connections with music, especially, make sense?
Any additional comments are greatly appreciated! I would especially love to know how the overall poem is interpreted from the reader's point of view.