Friday
Aug272010
Landfall by Bob Elliott
August 27, 2010 at 1:12AM 1
Landfall
This body that was once Odysseus,
sloshing face-downward in a tide-left pool,
will never know this is not Ithaca.
Weeds grope his limbs:
their water-comfort all his welcome,more
faithful than Penelope.
Blind Polyphemus is debauching her. Telemachus
squats, hog-drunk, in the uncleaned sties
hefting a wooden sword. Mentor is dead.
and here, fish-scaled with spurious lights,
the master's corpse swings slackly in the shallows
until the dawn tide sucks him out
into the mutter and swirl of a different legend.
tagged
Thrucrit
Thrucrit
Reader Comments (14)
This strikes me. Makes me want to memorize it. My ear, and please take that for all of what it isn't worth, wants to change the last line to read: to where the current changes direction.
larry
Thanks Larry.
Your suggested change gives the line a slightly different nuance, I think. I shall have to mull it over as a possible alternative, though.
BOB
dear Bob
if i might quietly join in on the 'ending' conversation.
to where the currents set
in other direction
of course feel free to toss this into a sink hole
i'll be back for an other read, for as Larry mentions it has an attraction.
a warm smile
silent lotus
That last line has given me trouble from the beginning (eh???) - I've never been entirely satisfied with it. How would it be if I were to drop it entirely ? Comments welcome.
BOB
Bob, magnificent poem. A fine idea and a very pleasurable read. I love the way 'sloshing' and 'shallows' tie together sound-wise. Is that black line meant to be there above the final line? If so I can't see why; maybe a formatting issue (of which there is a couple). I'm a little unconvinced by the title; I want something more like, 'After the Storm', but not that specifically. Telemachus as a drunk is an inspired contrast to the faithful son he is in the Odyssey.
That tricky last line, eh? One idea is that you could insert an arbitrary number to give a sense of endless process; might be a bit too weird though:
and here, fish-scaled with spurious lights,
the master's corpse swings slackly in the shallows
until the dawn tide sucks it out
again, for the seventh time.
Maybe not. That last line is out there somewhere...
james
Nothing seems to fit. I shall have to dig pretty deep for this one.
and here, fish-scaled with spurious lights,
the master's corpse swings slackly in the shallows--
its hand limp in the sucking tide.
Thanks everyone. Final line finally achieved (I think)
Certainly not possible without your input.
BOB
Bob, I really like what you did with this. It plays on the differences within the poem of the myths
Extraordinary.
Killer stuff, Bob, killer. I'm quite smitten with that last line. Much to enjoy.
Shari
I like this a lot Bob - I missed this one last summer. I've just been enjoying Atwood's Circle: Mud Poems, and her Penelopiad, so this is ringing plenty of primed bells. atb D
Superb, and fitting for the front page.
James
Very glad to read this again Bob. Rich and rewarding, well deserving of the spotlight.
B.