Scarecrow Questions
Though my tongue withers from disuse and
drought, I taste from across the sea astringent
smoke and the progeny of a hundred bullets
buzzing by like misguided insects through
the theater of the dying, and I question how
pride and greed, hubris and fear, unwind their
cords to detonate these differing yet tangled
lines. How to fathom such depth of mistrust?
The Christian paints her door frames azure, a
Muslim carpets his tile floor, the Jew panels his
walls, yet among each, various segments clash,
and all of their houses implode. I feel nothing,
yet shiver throughout the sun-blazed afternoon.
Then I consider the structure of zero, whether its
body contains or extracts, negates or compromises,
hollows out duplicates within duplicates, exorcising
with a blade so sharp as to peel away memory from
those it crosses without the faintest murmur. Gone.
Erased. Banished to never having been. I neither
breathe nor digest, but I absorb and recall. How do
you so willingly forget history? This post determines
my destination, but not my destiny, not tomorrow’s
promise, nor the returning birds and faith, the long
nights, their stars, their deaths, the following days.
Phenomenal.
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You are generous. Thank you.
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I really felt a connection with this poem. Thank you for sharing!
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I’m so pleased it connected with you. Thanks very much.
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wow…
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Thanks, Nancie.
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You are welcome!
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Keep in mind that zero had to be invented. It doesn’t exist anywhere except in the imagination. There is no space in the universe that can hold zero; energy and material always find a way to manifest themselves. Humans are made up of the remnants of exploded stars. Those exploded stars still hold a quality of existence, their cosmic DNA remains.
Somewhere in ancient Japan a noble Okaji looked up at the stars and contemplated eternity, contemplated finality. He still does when you do. And zillions of imperceptible bosons just passed through you while you were reading this sentence.
We only cry over memory… poetry as creative memory, and yours is beautiful! 🙂
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Creative memory… Intriguing.
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Yes, I’m constantly reminded that the concept of zero is much ado about nothing! And of course I read “zillions of imperceptible bosoms,” which provided some interesting visuals. 🙂
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To be a poet is to be a voluptuary… to be involved with poesy is to be emotionally nude… so the boson/bosom dichotomy is obliterated and they are joined. See? There is no escaping the poetic triple entendre! 🙂
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There is no escaping the mind of Schnee!
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Amazing xx
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Thank you.
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Your writing as always amazes me. When I realize I’ve held my breath when absorbing the words and the story in them, I know how much it makes me think and feel. Awesome write.
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Thanks very much!
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I’ve been following your site though new to this forum. I love your work. With that being said, these words would have so much more impact if you abandoned the from and changed the end stop of some of the lines. I don’t mean to criticize but I find ,with my own work, suggestions from other poets helpful. I hope you don’t take offense as I do find your words mesmerizing.
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Thanks, Lori. No offense taken – I welcome criticism and suggestions. I’ve written about a dozen in this series, and all but one are in this form. But that certainly doesn’t mean that they’ll stay that way. 🙂
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Change NOTHING about this work. Any critique of this work as structurally unsound are aesthetic, and not inherent underneath its skin. It is a sound work, it has what the old Chinese master painters called ku-ch’i (“bone spirit”): your work speaks to the very essence of structure itself. Its structural considerations (ku-fa: “bone means”) have been weighed and the poem is what it is.
Don’t repaint this peach blossom of a poem… it has gone beyond.
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a bottom of the ninth walk off home run, robert.
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Exactly!! This one went out of the park and landed in a flowerbed!
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Thanks, John. Not as painful as an in-the-park, face-first slide into home plate. 🙂
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Wow Amazing……
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Thanks very much.
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I love this, love how you threaded together all of these emotions….the connectivity within all of us.
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Thank you. Scarecrow thinks a lot for a, well, scarecrow.
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You always manage to give zero some substance 🙂 Stunning shot of the Tower by the way 🙂
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I just can’t stay away from zero! The photo is from morguefile.com.
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So so beautiful.
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Thank you.
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Wise, sad, beautiful. I especially like “the progeny of a hundred bullets” and your meditation on the structure of zero. Melancholy, meaningful work, dear poet.
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Melancholy suits me all too often, I think. Thank you, as always, for your kindness, Cate.
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You are as American as apple pie, but there is an umeboshi hidden within that pie.
What can I say? You are a master of your sabi nature: it is in the austerity of your age and the profound legacy of your Okaji-ness.
You are what is best about America.
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Ah, the impermanence of pie (at least in my house), its hopefulness, its sadness.
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Pie has weltschmerz? LOL! I guess the metaphysical underpinnings of pie are forever out of reach, ideals that tantalizes then eclipse… アップルパイは精神的です!
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It would depend upon the pie, of course. I can’t imagine lemon meringue having those feelings. But pumpkin!
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“…nor the returning birds and faith, the long nights, their stars…”
Why do we forget? Collectively and individually? Is it easier short-term? Are we too weak of heart? If you discover the answers, please share.
ps — Loved this.
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Perhaps Scarecrow will obtain the answers and share with us.
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A brilliant poem! Resonates really clearly.
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Thanks for the like on my “Lost?…” Hope you will visit again. Enjoy my browse back with you.
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It was my pleasure. Thanks for the visit.
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I love the “hubris and fear!” It is so me. Hahaha
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Ha! I think it encompasses us all.
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Indeed, it does
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Your prose is in streams of consciousness narrative, leaving the mind to think of the hypocrisy of established religions and at the same time leaving an iota of though that’s fragile, conscientious to be aware of becoming a good humanist. Anand Bose from Kerala
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Thank you, Anand. Becoming a good humanist, or human, for that matter, is something to aspire to.
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