Monday
Jun062011
ob hop ~ by David Alcock
June 6, 2011 at 2:46AM Thrush tugging on a worm, pale
worm pulling from the sparse meadow
of my self-shaven sack, buttercup-
hued with yellow iodine (fake-tanned
groin: I must have dozed in the sun
wearing unseasonable crotchless chaps).
Golden genitalia, gilded in the figleaf zone,
prone statue (no Apollo, I) pillow-propped,
curious, 'insouciant', absurdly 'amused'
as the benign decorator glorioles my balls,
cock, thighs; (I catch your synaesthete's eye,
wondering what sound this colour tastes;
you smile as if caught in a naughtiness),
and then I'm quite intent on the ball-
ache: deep, disturbing, as the nagging
needle shoots its load, intent to see and feel
fully this closing-off of futures. Chirrip.
Jet-eyed turdus. The beak-tipped clamps nip,
and the knife-tip scoops off the cream:
two tiny u-bends, vermicular segments
gobbled down the crop of the cul-de-sac bird.
It's a one-way-stream now to that pond, my love,
and all the tadpoles mass and granulate,
and sunnily self-digest their demi-lives.
Spiders weave and threads are tied, nimble
knots are thrown and pulled quite taut;
these sutures seal potentialities (and
later we toast the ghosts of my tubes
with milky pastis. "You've had more than your
fair share," you'll say. And I'm still greedy.)
Reader Comments (9)
David, Having experienced this (vasectomy) in my twenties, circa the sixties, the imagery provokes specific reactions / memories. That needle still makes me wince. I wonder how the imagery reads to one without the experience?
larry
This is quite something. A mix of the gruesome and sort of touching. I did find myself wondering who would want to read about this. There's a sense of ridiculousness and loathing of the physical self which is making me feel very uncomfortable but is also very human. A sort of Lucian Freudness about the nakedness.
So it's brilliantly written but also could do with a good edit down, I would say. At the risk of killing all the children (you can never have), I'd suggest concentrating on hanging onto these bits.
Thrush tugging on a worm, pale
worm pulling from the sparse meadow
of my self-shaven sack, buttercup-
hued with yellow iodine...
as the benign decorator gilds my balls,
cock, thighs; ...
you smile as if caught in a naughtiness),
and then I'm quite intent on the ball-
ache: deep, disturbing, as the nagging
....
It's a one-way-stream now to that pond, my love,
and all the tadpoles mass and granulate,
and sunnily self-digest their demi-lives.
...
later we toast the ghosts of my tubes
with milky pastis. "You've had more than your
fair share," you'll say. And I'm still greedy.)
Anyways, I hope that's useful.
Best
Made me wince (in the right way) even without any experience. I want to say 'too much information' but it's the information/image overload that makes the poem work so well.
Cathy
"crotchless chaps". Hmmm, is there such thing as chaps with a crotch? (A handy excuse to google for images of crotchless chaps.)
Very visceral response-inducing piece; I appreciated being discomfited by the physicality and maleness of it. I find that I have anchored myself on this set of abstraction, which helps me to not be overwhelmed by the immediacy of the scene:
intent to see and feel
fully this closing-off of futures.
...
sutures seal potentialities
...
the ghosts of my tubes
Very much like the synaesthete angle, too.
I'll certainly read it again.
Shari
"A handy excuse to google for images of crotchless chaps" -- Yeah right, as if you need an excuse . . .
David, I think this is extraordinary. As Richard points out, it's such a brilliantly handled mix of gruesome and sensitive elements. And I also agree with Catherine that it is the pile-up of images and details that make it such an effective piece. (That said, it could probably do to lose a few modifiers. S3 in particular?)
When I reached "my love" I had to back up and figure out who was being addressed this way, but that could well be my poor reading skills.
Been contemplating the snip job myself these last few years, so this had quite an impact on me. Great work.
B.
Thanks all, I'm still mulling over this one. Interested that you got 'self-loathing' from it Richard: another person told me the iodine made them think of a glory or gloriole... in fact I might pilfer that image. Crotchless chaps... for Br audience - you'd be surprised how many people think chaps are pigs' cheeks! Fit subject for poetry? Of course!
Actual snip was a mere snip - about 1/10th of the discomfort of a minor filling without anaesthetic. Just for info!
Atb D
Engrossing read David, and sometimes en-grossing. Left me wondering if it was a soliloquoy, a sort of self-love.... masochism crossed my mind. Then I read the threads. Still think there's more going on...
The image of a needle shooting its loads is spectacular, a book of poetry in itself.
Somehow I wish it ended on "bird"....
k
Well, I've got my three gorgeous boys, more than my fair share I suppose. Masochism? That's a funny word - pain is a stimulant of course, especially if you are a bit bonkers, but I always think masochism is the enjoyment in being debased as a person, not pain, per se. Of course there is an element of debasement in having futures cut off, balls snipped, etc, but hell, once in a lifetime cinema viewing, and I made the best of it. The doctor and nurse were bubbling with happiness after - gushing, in fact: they never had a patient who took an interest and asked questions while watching. Apparently the norm is silent passive-aggressive pretend it ain't happening and make no eye contact. I keep meaning to send this to the surgery! Just don't have a printer at the mo.
Thanks all for the comments. I've just reread, and I know that allowing for the fact that I always post my 'nearly final' versions into critique, I don't want to cut any more.
For info: copy of this duly printed and posted to the surgeon with the follow-up questionaire. Will of course share any amusing response, if forthcoming. Atb D