Bats in the Catacomb
by Bill Yarrow
It begins innocently, in the third person,
but ends defeated, in the first. The sun,
improbably, begins to thunder. The hills,
impossibly, begin to rain. Black dew
appears on the lintels of the paupers'
doors. Garter snakes form an alphabet
decipherable only by birds. From the wind,
we learn there's a knotted form of everything.
Across the world, nothing is aligned. Not
ecstasy. Not loneliness. Not jobs. Dreams
of being a millionaire are replaced by dreams
of being a billionaire. That is to say, breakfast
is no longer being served. Talk is so cheapened
the primeval language of desire stays shapeless.
I had wondered why.
Now I know.
Nice imagery and use of language. Love the ending.
I like the poem as its own comment. I like the what-is-often-called surrealist switches: hills raining, sun thundering. It's almost Biblical or is. It's better than Revelation if so, Revelation which to me after I got older seemed like science fiction, supposed to be credible vision, not a variation of the not seen. *
Bill, you put together some really nice lines here, tucked in some interesting imagages, seem to address issues of great importance...and that ending, the shapeless langueage of desire - I really like that. Stellar.
Wonderful opening line, Bill. Yes. Wonderful turns throughout. Enjoyed the piece.
Okay, that's it. No more reading the NY Times. Now I know what's what.
Great piece. *
Your poem evokes the triumph of the wild over human order, but also the blindness of those who talk cheap. It's a pervasive sickness, I fear.
I love the rhythm of this poem and of course, the images are all deep waters. Can get lost in them! Love this, Bill!!!****
Garter snakes form an alphabet/
decipherable only by birds.
So nice.
I had a similar reaction to Ann that this read as having a Biblical feel to me - or mythic.
I don't know how I missed this but I like it a whole lot, Bill. The language is exquisite. *