Most of this week’s poems experiment with form, and play with language and repetition; all four convey an intense immersion in an experience, some aspect of the everyday becoming symbolic or even prophetic.
“Sonnet for speech too soft & you who’ve yet to choose a name” by Sam Rush
from Glass: A Journal of Poetry
“Today I keep / the speaker out of me for long enough / to watch a swallow swoon the ghost of song.”
The musicality in this piece is incredible. It reads as easily as free verse but maintains the sonnet form in its constraint to 14 lines and (mostly?) iambic pentameter. Far from these limitations stiffening the piece, they increase the already powerful emotional urgency: repetitions and striking images create a vision both mythic and grounded, comprised of delicate and vivid moments of listening.
“harvest” by Erin Emily Ann Vance
from Train: a poetry journal
“I wondered / how much of us had become honey and wine”
A sweet poem in more way than one; the love the speaker has for the “you” flows through run-on imagery of honey and bees and gentleness and getting by. The imagery early in the poem of the affectionate handling of the bees draws a character I can’t help but fall for too.
“who gets anything for keeps?” by Patrycja Humienik
from Dream Pop Press
“somebody with a word that could fill an entire mouth”
The scattered form of this poem suggests the same sense of a busy city street and disjointedness that the imagery conveys. The piece muses on language that surrounds but is disconnected, uncommunicative. What’s left is minutia: crosswalk symbols, flowers and mouths reduced to component parts, coming together in a piece both thoughtful and atmospheric.
“Stock Footage (kick and spin)” by Lydia Unsworth
from talking about strawberries all of the time
“and we are so warm without even a fireplace or a mantra”
This piece reads like a sexy montage film of everyday life, a delightfully specific stream-of-consciousness. A certain lust for life persists through the scenes, the body retaining an immediacy and magic among mundane daily tasks. The length and unpunctuated prose form can make the poem a bit daunting to read through, but this also creates a fast immediacy and immersiveness. I keep finding myself going back to re-read the poem, but in bits and pieces, cutting it together in new ways like the “stock footage” title suggests.