Watt's Reply

[TranquillityBase]

Unleavened eclipse swerves
toward doubt-skinned dawn
curves into encircled day
to spin its messenger slaves

corralled on Ishmael’s island 
faithful to the final diamonds
fractions of a transparent decay
disinterred by tricycled denial.

Heron boned heretical smiles
carried in a pouch below the mouth
sinking mountainous without.
Charm shunned and asymmetrical,

a prisoner’s circumference of a shout
to a harrowed Christ, a simpler
cry baby confusion, coexistent 
except for one expulsive shot

swollen with wonder, siphoned down
and under, cut across and circumcised
in a notation by a cross-eyed scribe.
A frozen century awaits dominion.

[Mark A Becker]

Hey Tim-

I don't need to understand what's going on here in order to appreciate some of the fragments:

swollen with wonder

dawn curves into encircled day

faithful to the final diamonds

a frozen century awaits dominion.

While littered with mysterious clues, I have no idea what this is getting at, or I'm not savvy enough to decipher the clues. 

It doesn't make me feel anything but passing curiousity, sort of like if I was overhearing Genghis Khan negotiating trade routes with Santa.

Maybe other eyes will read it differently.

Mark

[Tiger the Lion]

After reading Mark's comments I thought the "key" might be in the title. My best guess would be that it is referring to Alan Watts and that the poem's narrator composed it while tripping on acid or another hallucinogen. The poem makes perfect sense from the POV of the one tripping, but outside of the LSD experience, the connections lose their tangibility and cohesion, becoming fragmented. (see Jimi Hendrix etc. for examples) I really hope I'm at least partially correct, otherwise I just called your poem gibberish and it's obviously more than that. 

[Mark A Becker]

A-HA!

I believe that Paul is on the right track here, and that the BIG CLUE is, in fact, in the title.

You may as well be describing a Dali painting while stoned; I am now on board with Paul (Tiger the Lion).

Still, the piece is almost too coherent for an acid trip, yet it makes no sense at all; like a "you-had-to-be-there" story.

Fever dreams are hard to describe... tripping visions even harder.

Now write one for Halloween...

Mark

[Tiger the Lion]

A-HA!

I believe that Paul is on the right track here, and that the BIG CLUE is, in fact, in the title.

You may as well be describing a Dali painting while stoned;  I am now on board with Paul (Tiger the Lion).

Still, the piece is almost too coherent for an acid trip, yet it makes no sense at all; like a "you-had-to-be-there" story.

Fever dreams are hard to describe... tripping visions even harder. 

Now write one for Halloween...

Mark

There's a line in a song by The Cult --- " Plastic fantastic lobster telephone" that is a nod to Dali. So ya Mark, I think we're on to something. 

[rowens]

when everything comes down to dali, watts or psychedelics, the sense of otherness is showing its typical colors.

watt's not watts'

my keyboard is whacked, forgive me.

[Tiger the Lion]

By way of a "fun" response...

Lobster Telephone

It was the birth of our twins,
our Peter and Paul,
that commissioned my will
to finally haul
the lobster telephone
clean off the wall, its guts and all

imploring it to never call
my fucking number again.

[TranquillityBase]

I've enjoyed the varied responses to this poem.  I didn't really expect any, it being in Miscellaneous, but I appreciate the reads.  Watt is S. Beckett's Watt.  But the title was an after thought. It may be gibberish, but what I've done is go back to my roots, which means poorly imitating Dylan Thomas.  Filtered through everything I've read since then.  Gotta say I enjoyed the hell out of writing this though.

It's possible I'm having flashbacks, but I was in full command of my faculties when I wrote this 

[busker]

I’d never have guessed the Watt reference without the above discussion. I was thinking of James Watt but couldn’t see a steam engine anywhere!
I don’t think this reads like Dylan Thomas though, even in an imitative style. There is alliteration,  but the “rolling” style of the master’s ethereal stuff (some would add: ‘and nonsense!’, not liking its inscrutability. But I love it for the sounds alone) is absent.

[Tiger the Lion]

So, now that my shot-in-the-dark theory is no longer a thing, i'd like to go back to Mark's original reply. If a poem (or its individual lines) are too obscure for reasonably discerning readers to digest at a natural pace, then who exactly is your audience? Who is it that writer is hoping to commune with? Who is he trying to reach? not being harsh, totally honest questions.

[TranquillityBase]

So, now that my shot-in-the-dark theory is no longer a thing, i'd like to go back to Mark's original reply. If a poem (or its individual lines) are too obscure for reasonably discerning readers to digest at a natural pace, then who exactly is your audience? Who is it that writer is hoping to commune with? Who is he trying to reach? not being harsh, totally honest questions.

I think I am mainly communicating with myself, in a language that I enjoy.  I've thrown off all thought of an audience.  And I find that very liberating.

[Mark A Becker]

I think I am mainly communicating with myself, in a language that I enjoy.  I've thrown off all thought of an audience.  And I find that very liberating.

Then why post it?  I can understand how it’s liberating, yet really prefer your work that offers lines that connect you to readers.

I ain’t trying to pigeon-hole you to any style, Tim, but I do wanna say that your growing command of descriptive language would fall easier on my eyes if you gave a wee bit of consideration to your “adoring fans.” (Thought I’d slip that last bit in to encourage you away from obscure writing.)

Mark

[TranquillityBase]

Mark,

I understand.  I posted it, and Telegrammata, because I honestly thought someone might like them.  They are also an experiment.  That's why they are in Miscellaneous.  I hope they (I just wrote another one yesterday) will evolve into something that can stand up to critique.  

 Tim