a final frontier, of sorts

By -
Lost in a cannon of curve
mirrors, he cannot perch or sling,
rather sings every space song ever
but only the chorus about Major Tom comes
like a repetition that has fresh
written all over it. He misses lettuce,
putting on shoes, sharpening pencils.
To catalog is to mark and there is no time
here, just categories of awake--
stop, pause, breathe: the stars a shimmy machine.

Comments

  1. JonFebruary 6, 2011 at 2:54 PM

    me likely [(c) kanye]

    I'm fascinated by the image of "a cannon of curve mirrors." I'm trying to picture it, but i can't really resolve the geometry. also, a "curve mirror" vs. a "curved mirror" is an idea I like. a mirror that curves other things, but is not curved itself. I like it, but I think it makes my brain grind a bit unpleasantly (in the middle of some real pleasant friction).

    I like the idea of cataloging and increments in this poem. like most of the SPACE assignment poems, i feel like this is prime for expansion. The things he misses are good, but there just has got to be more. the inventory isn't specific, isn't characterized enough, outside of lettuce and pencils, which are good, but what about lettuce? I'm getting an image of our boy, but we're not here yet.

    fyi, i'm listening to the bass track from space oddity. it's about 100% funkier than you think it is. It's actually kind of amazingly groovy. bowie letting his fingers do the walking.

    the stars a shimmy machine is bad-ass, good work kid. I love cannot perch or sling. I'm interested in the repetition our boy's doing of major tom, what he considers the chorus as, and exactly the structure of this. I kinda wouldn't mind having the actual obsessive repetition in the poem itself. That make sense?

    anyways, YAY! we're doing it ADC!

    ReplyDelete

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