Houses and Homes

I always have trouble interpreting the best poetry, but as I said before I like the idea of hiding in the woods. This also brought to mind man's destruction on Mama Earth. Thank you for posting your genius work to our group, James.

If it didn't speak to you, then there's no point in calling it a work of genius. And that's perfectly okay! If you took any pleasure from the reading, Jennifer, then I'm content. Thank you as always for your kind comment.

I hate to be wrong and offend the writer. Some people like multiple interpretations, but I don't know if you're one of them. I took away knowledge and was intrigued by your writing. I always am. :))

Fascinating replay with new intro...I'm getting old mansion and living ghosts ...a haunting scene.

I was hoping that the two pieces would work well together; that's how I envisioned them, although I've worked on them as two separate poems. The first part is very much about "living ghosts," as you say. Thank you for stopping by, Jan. :)

Thank you for posting to The Surreal Circus. You are now featured.

The creeping asphalt in "Modern Plantations" is what really gets to me, as it seems a metaphor for a sort of rot creeping through our society.

You've done wonderful things with "Back to Nature." The slice of uneaten pizza becomes a corpse, and your smiling cement rabbits seem as daft as the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.

I'm flattered by the feature, Ann, and by the thoughtfulness of your comments. I'm never quite sure whether one of my poems will be appropriate for The Surreal Circus, but I thought the haunted quality of the first part, and the unusual juxtapositions of the second, would qualify this one. Thank you for your continued support; it's much appreciated.

There's a definite surreal streak in both of these. I'd love to see what would happen if you went for an all-out surreal style in one of your poems.

You show amazing control in your writing, and this is often (in my opinion) precisely what's needed to pull off a piece of pure surrealism.

I'm not sure I could pull it off. The trajectory of my poetry has been towards a sort of resonant realism: seeing through the real rather than beyond it. I'm not sure that makes a lot of sense, or that it's a meaningful distinction, but that's my thinking at the moment.

I understand. I'm deliberately challenging the limits of your writing, but considering that I only write analytical pieces, I probably shouldn't.

I think we are all limited to some extent by the raw material that comes out of our subconscious minds, and in my case, that's almost solely analysis. (Which I explains why I became a scientist-- I really didn't have much choice in the matter!)

I am immediately taken with the line "and uncrowded by sidewalks." I already know that even travel in these neighborhoods takes place in seclusion. It adds a real sense of Hitchcock or even "Blue Velvet" flair right off the bat. You carry this through marvelously in each stanza. Part 1 of the poem has a real haunted quality as if the people were disappeared by something, presumably their own fear. Part 2 has much more punch than the original you posted. Here we begin to look at the direct evidence of man's separateness, and his status as prey to his own inability, or even care, to be a genuine part of the natural order, only able to mock it. I am particularly drawn to the rabbit's concrete smile, a frozen indictment. Your poem tells us we are doomed to decay, unable to benefit from the rejuvenating power of nature precisely because of our separateness from it and the consequential fear of ourselves. We will not win, the ants will have us. I think you have vastly improved these/this piece. Excellent, chilling poem. The most effective irony, presented as an analytical dissection of the impression we leave on the natural order. Dark poetry examining the underbelly of the human contribution. Only one small suggestion to think about, actually just a question because I am unsure whether it would add anything to your fine poem. But the last word "territory" gives a little power back to men, what would it do to the feel of the poem to modify it slightly to diminish the defiance inherent in the term?

Thank you for this fascinating reading, Atticus. Even when man behaves as the animal he is, his efforts to live in nature are somehow alien-- because he is alien, something else again from other creatures. I deeply appreciate the time and care you've taken with my poem, in its several stages, and I'm pleased to hear that you like the changes I've made to the second part. I'll consider your recommendation about the term "territory." :)

Ha! Too much? I thought I might be over analyzing this. I really like it though. It provoked me into deep thought,......perhaps too deep. ;-)

No too much, no! I really was impressed by your reading, and told Corinna as much. I think I see more "nature," of a sort, in the stuff of the human animal-- the second part of the poem-- than you do. For me, our clutter expresses a connection, desired or actual, to the natural world. Reading along with you, however, I see how those leavings function also as a caricature or distortion of nature, despite the drift of our affections. Something still sets us apart. That's there in the poem, even if I hadn't consciously considered it.

(And now I shall steal it and pretend that it was always part of my thinking. ;) )

I like the line "the spoor that marks his territory." Some people seem to have a lot in common with their dogs as they go through the world pissing here and there to mark the fact that they've been there. I guess you've really arrived when you can build for seclusion rather than ostentation, when instead of telling the world to sniff your butt you say instead "You aren't worthy of sniffing my butt."

I think you've marked the difference between the poem's two parts perfectly-- in terms of the sniffing of butts, no less. Indeed, I sometimes think that the residents of some gated communities would prefer not to have a butt at all. Thank you for reading, and for your thoughtful comment.

Wonderfully imagery in these, as always. The cement rabbits in particular really struck a chord with me!

(Possibly because we sell them at my workplace.)

I'm actually rather fond of cement rabbits. Thank you for reading, Tory.

God! My remark just lost in the space!

Well... The first part of the writing, the one on the modern plantation, a name which suits it, I am enthralled. After reading it and Atticus I think this poetry has a effect of a open roof tour bus. Untill it comes to as if deferring to mud.
where the rhythm stalls. The phrase, in contrary to your other phrases that are no accidents, tells but does not show and as if breaks in. Then the poem again picks up the dream run and climbs up to its summit atplaces where
men build in fear of themselves
and hide in the wood.. But you need an anti climax. I of course cannot be more agree with you.

Thank you for your careful reading, Kushal; I really appreciate it. You're probably right about the phrase, "as if deferring to mud." I could find a way to illustrate that point rather than explaining it. Perhaps something like "mud-brown," or I could just leave off the reference to mud entirely and hope that my reader makes the connection. I'm hesitant to use explicit metaphors for just this reason: they often remove the reader from his or her engagement with the scene described.