After Yeats
A sudden violent seizure: from behind,
The pitiless priapic scent of goat
Thrust in so deeply that it stabbed my mind.
Grunting, hairy, hard, around my throat
A filthy human bicep bulged—crushed
My trachea. We tumbled in the mud,
Joined at the hip, man and myth, in a rush
Of terrible ferocity. The blood,
The brutal music Pan abandoned there,
Did not depart with those receding hoof
Prints in the woods. This was just our first
A sudden violent seizure: from behind,
The pitiless priapic scent of goat
Thrust in so deeply that it stabbed my mind.
Grunting, hairy, hard, around my throat
A filthy human bicep bulged—crushed
My trachea. We tumbled in the mud,
Joined at the hip, man and myth, in a rush
Of terrible ferocity. The blood,
The brutal music Pan abandoned there,
Did not depart with those receding hoof
Prints in the woods. This was just our first
Real encounter. Matted in my hair
One animal remained. And, with a shove,
Forced me to couple, crying, with the earth.
4 comments:
Okay. Confession. What Yeats poem are you referring to with your work?
I liked the rhythm and the word choice by the way.
I will confess. The poem by Yeats I was working with was "Leda and the Swan." Here is the text:
Leda and the Swan
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
AH! I should have guessed—I was looking for a Pan-specific verse by Yeats.
Yes. "Leda and the Swan" is one of my favorites as well.
I better understand your references.
Yeah, the reference was not so clear. I might need to work on the poem a bit more, too!
I am working on a series of mythological/psychological/sexual poems with another poet, Gavin Dillard. We send each other new pieces every day. This is part of that series.
So is the next one, the next one, the next one, and the ten others I need to post.
I probably won't post all of them, just a few. Save something for the book!
Post a Comment