09-01-2013, 04:44 AM
Duck, Duck, Goose
Gene speaks of his geese and his ducks with his fists,
with his fingers tucked deep into signs. I can spell
out each letter, not words; I'm too rusty for this.
I don't even know "rusty." "Slow down, I can't tell
what you're saying." He honks his impatience. One hand
does a flip at his waist while his left is a beak,
but the whole is so quick that I can't understand--
like a language of moths beating bulbs till they break.
Slow it down. Slow it down. And he finally does--
turns and points to the door, to the yard where the birds
always squabbled with bites over corn in the dust.
But the ducks are all silent. The grasses are fuzzed
like a pillow exploded. I, too, lose my words
at the sight of their white now stained redder than rust.
Julie Carter
Duck duck goose
Gene speaks of geese, of ducks, with quick sign fists
and I must beg him slow his silent speech
to match my rusty intellect. He flips
his left hand at his waist, a hinged hand beak
made of his right, his fingers wild and mute
in words like moth-heads beating on hot bulbs.
I cannot understand. A door leads out
to backyard pastures where the golden bulk
of corn that made ducks squabble lies in lines
uneaten, framed by feathers. All Gene's birds
lie, too, like shredded pillows on the lawn
in crimson cases, laundry left undone.
-Julie Carter
Which is quicker? I couldn't tell and really would have to record myself and time it. The first is tetrameter and second pentameter, but the first has more syllables.
Still these versions can be used as good illustration of how within meter, line speed varies. Looking at the first version
but the whole is so quick that I can't understand--
very fast line
like a language of moths beating bulbs till they break.
this is slower with a break in the pure anapestic tetrameter.
Slow it down. Slow it down. And he finally does--
The sentence breaks slow me a little.
Actually those three lines are a really nice use of meter with variation and how it reinforces the meaning of the poem.
Gene speaks of his geese and his ducks with his fists,
with his fingers tucked deep into signs. I can spell
out each letter, not words; I'm too rusty for this.
I don't even know "rusty." "Slow down, I can't tell
what you're saying." He honks his impatience. One hand
does a flip at his waist while his left is a beak,
but the whole is so quick that I can't understand--
like a language of moths beating bulbs till they break.
Slow it down. Slow it down. And he finally does--
turns and points to the door, to the yard where the birds
always squabbled with bites over corn in the dust.
But the ducks are all silent. The grasses are fuzzed
like a pillow exploded. I, too, lose my words
at the sight of their white now stained redder than rust.
Julie Carter
Duck duck goose
Gene speaks of geese, of ducks, with quick sign fists
and I must beg him slow his silent speech
to match my rusty intellect. He flips
his left hand at his waist, a hinged hand beak
made of his right, his fingers wild and mute
in words like moth-heads beating on hot bulbs.
I cannot understand. A door leads out
to backyard pastures where the golden bulk
of corn that made ducks squabble lies in lines
uneaten, framed by feathers. All Gene's birds
lie, too, like shredded pillows on the lawn
in crimson cases, laundry left undone.
-Julie Carter
Which is quicker? I couldn't tell and really would have to record myself and time it. The first is tetrameter and second pentameter, but the first has more syllables.
Still these versions can be used as good illustration of how within meter, line speed varies. Looking at the first version
but the whole is so quick that I can't understand--
very fast line
like a language of moths beating bulbs till they break.
this is slower with a break in the pure anapestic tetrameter.
Slow it down. Slow it down. And he finally does--
The sentence breaks slow me a little.
Actually those three lines are a really nice use of meter with variation and how it reinforces the meaning of the poem.