Call to Song

[TranquillityBase]

I read your piece in another thread that mentioned Wallace Stevens. I'm reminded of your verses:

I am like a rabbit, tossed back and forth by the clouds.
Yet I persist, through rattapallax and whoo-hoo-hoo
pulled forward by their sound if not their meaning

For me, the main critique of this piece lies within what you wrote here. It seems as if you're flirting with surrealism and absurdism (which are completely valid approaches to poetry), but haven't fully committed. Seems like you want things to be trippy and still make sense at the same time, and it's not working. The poem doesn't sound bad, but it doesn't sound good enough to keep me moving smoothly through the poem in the absence of meaning. 

A poem has to be pleasurable on some level for the reader to feel rewarded for their work, whether that's inventive concepts, vivid imagery, interesting sonics, a rhythm you can bounce to, etc. This poem feels less like giving something to the reader and more of a demand that they chase after something. This is not to say that poems shouldn't require work to get into, or require multiple readings -- I certainly don't want to be heard as shading those who prefer to read or write more complex work. But, when you play around as a poet, it needs to be for the mutual pleasure of poet and reader -- one sided happiness is not the way to gain readership. 

I suppose I wouldn't mind so much the lack of "meaning" (whatever that means) if I didn't feel lightly chastised by the poem itself for not getting it -- if the clues are being tossed by the gods, heaven help the poor soul who can't find them. 

What I can see is that you're trying to make interesting word choices. It's getting there except for a couple of points I'll highlight below. However, I feel your word choices are like the machines in the Matrix, obliged to obey the rules of the programs they invented. But, Wallace Stevens is just making up his own words, not waiting for language to come to him. Try to realize the truth: there is no spoon. 

Call to Song

Gods and their messengers -- Which gods? Whose gods? And who are their messengers? Not pressing for clarity, just more interesting detail. 
like stray Cheshire Cats
toss clues into our paths
in this Rabbit Hole of existence
then insist on obedience
to sate their hunger for a horizon.

Evading the sacred,
heretics at dawn, coming together -- 'coming together' could be stronger with different word choices
on the peak of a shrouded mountain
we return to tranquility,
where joy abounds, a rebellious spring -- 'joy' is too vague. It's like the word beauty: rarely compelling in poetry. 
defusing rock and scripture,
an outward flow, casually terrific,
saturating our cells, 
calling our nerves to song. -- it's unfair for me to say that certain words are un-poetic. That being said, 'nerves' sounds un-poetic. Much like 'un-poetic' can get on your nerves. 

Divine commands left behind, -- 'left behind' could also be stronger
we let the silence guide us 
into a new music of the mind.

Thanks OMG for your detailed critique.  I'd more or less abandoned this one after a couple of weeks reading Charles Bukowski.  I'm past that now and you've inspired me to revise it.

Sorry, just can't give up "nerves".  It's the word I want.  I don't really get why it's unpoetic.  But I have tried to make the the rest of the peom more specific and more understandable.  Not sure it's any more pleasureable for the reader, but I think it's more comprehensible.

TqB