Thursday, October 20, 2005

Peri Bathous

or, the Art of Sinking in Poetry (part i of an endless series). Sometimes you happen upon a poem whose basic metaphorical premise is just so badly misjudged that it's almost unbelievable. Case in point: "Hands," by Donald Finkel (not to be confused with Norman Finkelstein):
The poem makes truth a little more disturbing,
like a good bra, lifts it and holds it out
in both hands. (In some of the flashier stores
there's a model with the hands stitched on, in red or black.)

Lately the world you wed, for want of such hands,
sags in the bed beside you like a tired wife.
For want of such hands, the face of the moon is bored,
the tree does not stretch and yearn, nor the groin tighten.

Devious or frank, in any case,
the poem is calculated to arouse.
Lean back and let its hands play freely on you:
there comes a moment, lifted and aroused,
when the two of you are equally beautiful.

3 comments:

E. M. Selinger said...

Oh.
My.
God.

On the other hand, aren't you glad there ARE men (and poets) like this out there? They make the rest of us look so good!

E

Marnen said...

I'm not sure the metaphor itself is the problem; I think it could have worked, if written by a better poet. The problem is rather that the poet, once he chose his metaphor, apparently couldn't figure out where to take it.

And he was obviously trying, and had some interesting things to say with it. It's so frustrating to see a good try fail so spectacularly.

viagra online said...

I really like this stanza;
Lately the world you wed, for want of such hands,
sags in the bed beside you like a tired wife.
I think that this poem is really good, I love the way as you write!!22dd