She said it was
stupid meaningless empty
this poem.
That it did nothing for her —
no thing depends upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water.
Yet, she aspired to greatness.
Cracking shells with her dull pen
she looked for the elusive pearl
to string around her slender neck.
She aspired to greatness
with an ungreat full mind.
And I two rows back
struck dumb
by her thick, reaching thighs
and the
vain pounding of her hard head,
tried to overlook her inconsistencies
thinking I might
see eternity in a grain of sand,
that I might
jump down from my high and firy cross.
But I could not,
the farmer in my green soul
knowing
that so much does depend upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water.
That so much does depend upon
empty beauty
full
filled with in
significance.
Reading it for the first time, “it did nothing for me”… I even wanted to ask you how you meant it:-) But the more I read it the more I like it.
Along with My Grand Inquisitor (which is a very discreet poem, also not so attractive at first sight), my favorites.
Yeah, isn’t that so true… the things we at first have a “dislike of” , or at least a little – we come to love so much more. That really is a version and the authentic view of love. Something that captures what is left after all the rapture, huzza and bruhahah is over…..
I don’t do it intentionally but it just flows – there is a lot of very discrete illusion and metaphor in both those poems. My private conversation to those that might get it, know of it and see/understand. Not everything has to be so “in your face” however much our culture demands and disrespects the audience these days.