After Circadian rhythm by Jen Dick
I’ve been drinking my coffee
In the morning
In our captain’s suite
Because he never got on.
I’ve been smoking beside
That shadow on the wall
Our quartermaster made
While sitting in the sun.
I’ve been keeping house
With the mouser’s water dish
And the wainscoting of
The mess where the mice
Are supposed to live.
The SS Cauchemarine
When we set sail
Had a different name.
A man wakes in a hammock,
He and the hammock
Like a sibilant.
The name of the ship is
The SS Cauchemarine.
The inquisition of the sea
Thumps her between
Eastward and sleep.
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3 comments:
I always find it intriguing to see where a poem will lead someone else when they write a poem. I don't know how to say this any other way, but I am noticing this peculiarly gendered pull between our poems these past days, masc and feminines, and yet yoked together by parallel referencing as well as some vocabulary. Intriguing. I thought this was a poem that really went someplace outside of where I thought what I wrote might lead someone, and I enjoyed that very much. Thanks, J
That's what I've been seeing too / particularly the contrast in gender. Also, when I go off your poems, I like to be casual, maybe to a fault. Lately, for me, it's been a question of how to have 2 styles that work together w/out themselves knowing how. By the way, Circadian rhythm is a poem w/ a really strong & uniform color & heat.
Hey JR! Color and heat? Thanks! I like the tonal shifts you are exploring, and the conversationalness. The voice speaking--less in this one than in your previous post. It is always exciting to see where my brain and language explorations are and then where someone else takes some of that same language, how it gets mixed with their essence. Yes, I am tired still this aftermorning, but hey, essences, essences....
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