Crucifluctuation

[jdeirmend]

Cruciflux (draft 2)

"Time's noblest offspring is its last."

- George Berkeley

I.

I look about me at all of this:
from crumbling concrete sidewalk
to the microbe-furrowed moss
that clings, like life itself
to erosion’s cracks and voids

To the hairless, cloth-gowned
hominids, who spin above it
like pinwheels, set atop the cobbled
ground, caught up in the exuberance

that I, if only for a single
moment have renounced
to observe. My kindred

Heedless of the myriad forms
trampled beneath their feet:
these distant cousins of ours

Every one in a subtle way
after the image of what ancestors
came before us each: these remnants
of all the wondrous, intricate little
stepping stones, carved out of matter
for spirit, in the great chain of Being

II.

“Wake up!”

The phosphorescent light hits me
like an anvil on the skull, beating
down upon my brain in biology class.
Ms. Kath flips the slides, and a second
blow comes to my mind’s eye:

The resemblance between ancient
choanoflagellate cells, and the little
puff pastry layers of the human blastocyst

So in the life of every person
is the story of life itself writ small:
from the death and rebirth of
each little cell, we came, one and all

And all the history, of nature’s
harsh and unforgiving necessity
a necessary crucible
without which none of us
would ever have come to be

So was the flesh mortified
For aeons upon centuries
that from its bowels, thought
might form: that bone and blood
might learn to love, to know
to speak and sing

We were the goal. And Nature
has succeeded in bringing us
into being – if for no other
reason, that spirit might have
a place in time, and that matter
might have had the chance to see


Original version

“. . . Time’s noblest offspring is the last.”
– George Berkeley

I.

I look about me at all of this:
from crumbling concrete sidewalk
to the microbe-furrowed moss
that clings like life itself, into
the decaying lifeless cracks

To the hairless, cloth-gowned
hominids, who spin above it
like pinwheels, set atop the rocky
ground, caught up in the exuberance

that I, if only for a single
moment have renounced
to observe. My kindred

Heedless of the myriad forms
trampled beneath their feet:
these distant cousins of ours
every one in a subtle way
after the image of what ancestors
came before us each: these remnants
of all the wondrous, intricate little
stepping stones, carved out of Matter
for Spirit, in the great chain of Being

II.

The phosphorescent light hits me
like an anvil on the skull, beating
down upon my brain in biology class.
Ms. Kath flips the slides, and I see
the resemblance between ancient
choanoflagellate cells, and the little
puff pastry layers of the human blastocyst

So in the life of every person
is the story of life itself writ small:
from the death and rebirth of
each little cell, we came, one and all

And all the history, of nature’s
harsh and unforgiving necessity
a necessary crucible
without which none of us
would ever have come to be

So was the flesh mortified, for
aeons upon centuries, that from its
bowels, thought might form
that bone and blood might
learn to sing and speak

We were the goal. And Nature
has succeeded in bringing us
into being – if for no other
reason, that Spirit might have
a place in time, and that Matter
might have had the chance to see

[heslopian]

Crucifluctuation

“. . . Time’s noblest offspring is the last.”
– George Berkeley

I.

I look about me at all of this: Oddly effective, even chilling, first line.
from crumbling concrete sidewalk Good image.
to the microbe-furrowed moss Even better.
that clings like life itself, into
the decaying lifeless cracks

To the hairless, cloth-gowned
hominids, who spin above it I like the image of these hominids, but I'm not sure what they are/symbolise.
like pinwheels, set atop the rocky
ground, caught up in the exuberance

that I, if only for a single
moment have renounced
to observe. My kindred A picky point, but if you've renounced to observe it how can you relate it here?

Heedless of the myriad forms
trampled beneath their feet: Are the hominids man, walking the sidewalks and living their lives?
these distant cousins of ours
every one in a subtle way
after the image of what ancestors
came before us each: The syntax from "after" to here feels very tortured. It could be vastly improved just by removing "each", I think. these remnants
of all the wondrous, intricate little
stepping stones, carved out of Matter
for Spirit, in the great chain of Being Gorgeous lines. I love how each man is like a shedding of something past here.

II.

The phosphorescent light hits me
like an anvil on the skull, beating
down upon my brain in biology class.
Ms. Kath flips the slides, and I see
the resemblance between ancient
choanoflagellate cells, and the little
puff pastry layers of the human blastocyst A really good transition from abstract thought to concrete reality here. I like that you didn't open with where the narrator is and what they're doing, but kept it back as a kind of twist.

So in the life of every person
is the story of life itself writ small:
from the death and rebirth of
each little cell, we came, one and all The central theme of this verse is a bit cliche, but your rhyme of "small" and "all" is executed well enough to give it purpose.

And all the history, of nature’s Is this comma necessary?
harsh and unforgiving necessity Should an "is" go here?
a necessary crucible
without which none of us
would ever have come to be This verse is a bit too preachy and obvious.

So was the flesh mortified, for
aeons upon centuries, "Aeons upon centuries" just doesn't sound right. Maybe it's because an aeon is longer than a century, but even reversed those words don't really go. "Aeons upon aeons" or "centuries upon centuries" would be better. that from its
bowels, thought might form
that bone and blood might
learn to sing and speak The wording is a bit clumsy here, but it works and is somewhat affecting.

We were the goal. And Nature
has succeeded in bringing us
into being – if for no other
reason, that Spirit might have Is this comma needed?
a place in time, Very good. and that Matter
might have had the chance to see Brilliant.

The poem's second chapter sinks a bit too much into preaching and rhetoric, but overall this is a very well-written work which, with a bit of tightening, could be glorious. Critique is JMHO. Thank you for the read

[jdeirmend]

Crucifluctuation

“. . . Time’s noblest offspring is the last.”
– George Berkeley

I.

I look about me at all of this: Oddly effective, even chilling, first line.
from crumbling concrete sidewalk Good image.
to the microbe-furrowed moss Even better.
that clings like life itself, into
the decaying lifeless cracks

To the hairless, cloth-gowned
hominids, who spin above it I like the image of these hominids, but I'm not sure what they are/symbolise.
like pinwheels, set atop the rocky
ground, caught up in the exuberance

that I, if only for a single
moment have renounced
to observe. My kindred A picky point, but if you've renounced to observe it how can you relate it here?

Heedless of the myriad forms
trampled beneath their feet: Are the hominids man, walking the sidewalks and living their lives?
these distant cousins of ours
every one in a subtle way
after the image of what ancestors
came before us each: The syntax from "after" to here feels very tortured. It could be vastly improved just by removing "each", I think. these remnants
of all the wondrous, intricate little
stepping stones, carved out of Matter
for Spirit, in the great chain of Being Gorgeous lines. I love how each man is like a shedding of something past here.

II.

The phosphorescent light hits me
like an anvil on the skull, beating
down upon my brain in biology class.
Ms. Kath flips the slides, and I see
the resemblance between ancient
choanoflagellate cells, and the little
puff pastry layers of the human blastocyst A really good transition from abstract thought to concrete reality here. I like that you didn't open with where the narrator is and what they're doing, but kept it back as a kind of twist.

So in the life of every person
is the story of life itself writ small:
from the death and rebirth of
each little cell, we came, one and all The central theme of this verse is a bit cliche, but your rhyme of "small" and "all" is executed well enough to give it purpose.

And all the history, of nature’s Is this comma necessary?
harsh and unforgiving necessity Should an "is" go here?
a necessary crucible
without which none of us
would ever have come to be This verse is a bit too preachy and obvious.

So was the flesh mortified, for
aeons upon centuries, "Aeons upon centuries" just doesn't sound right. Maybe it's because an aeon is longer than a century, but even reversed those words don't really go. "Aeons upon aeons" or "centuries upon centuries" would be better. that from its
bowels, thought might form
that bone and blood might
learn to sing and speak The wording is a bit clumsy here, but it works and is somewhat affecting.

We were the goal. And Nature
has succeeded in bringing us
into being – if for no other
reason, that Spirit might have Is this comma needed?
a place in time, Very good. and that Matter
might have had the chance to see Brilliant.

The poem's second chapter sinks a bit too much into preaching and rhetoric, but overall this is a very well-written work which, with a bit of tightening, could be glorious. Critique is JMHO. Thank you for the read

Hey! Thanks so much for the conscientious, considered feedback and the praise. I will try to get around to a revision in a bit.