Friday, April 6, 2012

April 7 - Pharmed


I am like that joke about the spider, stoned
on cannabis, who spins a holy hammock. Pray,

no, not even thoughts will stick, not even
a teaspoonful of morning do to sip.

I lie and blink, words slip
through these worthless threads that brake

in, too. The wheel spins off its axes,
the spoke is chopped to splintered would

that I could perseverate. Prey, prey, prey.
No God can eat through this holey miss.


  1. Hi Laurie,

    I like this quite a bit; the title (and the weed) sets up the gradual loss of sense (and creep into nonsense) in the language. I was wondering (and take this with a pinch of salt because I'm by no means certain of it) whether it wants a subtle rhyme scheme, since you already have 'sip' / 'slip'. Whether or not couplets would be too much, or you wanted a scheme which shifted more confusingly, I'll leave to you. A rhyme scheme which begins predictably and then wrongfoots the reader might go with the sense. But yes, this is neatly done, with a nice quiet subtle rhythm which matches the subject.

  2. Thanks for your feedback, Mark, it is most helpful. The couplets and the title (ultimately) were actually inspired, although not the style of writing, from a poem called Meds that was in a back issue of Third Coast. Of course, that poem was ABOUT the effects of being overmedicated without the writing actually reflecting it. It was tight and neatly written, therefore, couplets suited it. You make a good point that couplets may not (probably don't) suit this poem. Inspiration is great for drafts, then a poem has a way of picking its own dance partner. As far as the rest and as usual, of course, I struggled with how much I could get away with and still not totally confuse the reader. Trust the reader needs to be my mantra.