Variations on a front porch:
Fingers stained with smell
A shiny FedEx truck bakes in the sun, a big bleached potato roasting out on our street
Thomas' pluming truck passes by on the asphalt,
the rubber tires anchor to the black top
a sight so pitful and plain it must be put into memory, to be recalled frequently bound to have happened, and happen again with foggy familiarity
The Midwest melts as Texas floods
somewhere between, the whole world seemed humid to me
The skin on my legs burn
darken, soaking in the light , until the suns radiation becomes a lurking carcinogen; remembering a surgeon general's warning
choosing to instead, sweat indoors
Maybe the wind will blow them all away.
So my last memories won't recollect a
summer spent
baked.
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5 comments:
I really like the imagery in this, it captured the stale stagnant heat of a hot day. I felt like I should be holding a dripping popsicle while I read it or something. I just don't understand the title, because it's about D.C. but you refer to the midwest.
I think this poem is inconsistent and confusing. The descriptions present contradicting tones and the overall theme got lost in the fog.
I liked the idea of creating the sense of heat and humidity, but I feel something is missing from the humidity part. At first I didn't really see the connection of the wind coming through, as I felt it was a bit disconnected from the rest of the poem. Now I think perhaps it denotes that desperate hope that a wind will come and provide relief from the heat and humidity.
The poem made me feel slightly gross, kind of like those annoying summer days that are so humid you can't help but feel stifled. The last line reads like something I would put in there if I wanted people to look at my writing twice. I read the poem a few times and decided that for all the things I could judge it on, I'd much rather just go with my first instinct and give it a thumbs up for making me "feel" something...an accomplishment that more established writers still have trouble with sometimes...
a sight so pitful and plain it must be put into memory, to be recalled frequently bound to have happened, and happen again with foggy familiarity
I thought that this line was the strongest point of the entire poem. I think we can all relate to the idea that something can em so mundane and ordinary that it manages to force its way into our memory, even when events of tremendous import often escape us.
That being said, this was the only part of the poem that I was able to relate to. I was, for lack of a better way of putting it, lost throughout the poem. When I reached the end, I felt as though the poem hadn't achieved anything. I am able to see what you were aiming for with it, but in my opinion, it fell short. My biggest problem was that you were trying to evoke too many images in too short a time and the result was that they were a little lost on me.
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