Author Information
Between Worlds
Folder:
Spiritual Walking through a deranged
galaxy, half concrete, half light,
on my way to heaven,
I saw a pair of bottomless eyes
surrounded by eyes carrying
the flames of ambition
stolen from each other.
And in those torches the city
was a glowing planet waiting
to orbit its lord
(and of course, they were all lords)
while the tunnels that stared
at nothing were like the shock
of starving wood in snow,
and stung like sun-crazed ice
in my own.
And I walked on,
my spirit trailing behind me,
shouting:
But souls inhabiting rags
could be angels . . .
but always a moment
engraved in infinity.
Life muffled the cry,
called to me from behind soft breezes
led me nowhere different than the place
before,
where joy was a distant babble,
waste, convenient,
heaven, in fragments--
a place neither dark nor light.
And the moment and the eyes
followed.
by Patricia Joan Jones
To me, this poem presents
To me, this poem presents three centers of gravity, and not just one. The first is the very first stanza, which declares where the Poet is and what the Poet is doing. The cosmic perspective is already activated: the galaxy is deranged, which is a description I do not take as derogatory, because all galaxies become deranged by the entropy that fills in the emptiness as our cosmos continues to expand. The speaker observes several items, which are listed (this poem is, in many ways, an epic catalogue) until coming to the second center of gravity, "a moment / engraved in infinity." The poem continues forward until it reaches and stops at the third center of gravity, the final stanza---which is left open. What moment wil follow and what will the eyes see? I believe the moment, and the vision, will be her subsequent poems. I have stated, elsewhere, that certain of her poems are centerpieces of her work. This poem is an entrance way to her Poetry in general. Yet this is not the first poem she posted at postpoems. I would suggest that a major Poet does not starts only at a chronological, and not a spiritual, beginning; the way the ancient epics start in media res. Wallace Stevens, a Poet very much like Patriciajj, stated the entrance to his poems in the first lines of a late poem he called, "Asides On An Oboe." I think Eliot's entrance was the first lines of the first section of Burnt Norton. In media res is one of our most classic poetic traditions in the Western canon. And, in this poem, Patriciajj admits us to the entrance of what can only be called her unique and inimitable Cosmic Poetry.
J-Called
I'm so sorry I missed this
I'm so sorry I missed this amazing analysis that pinpoints, with deep and stunning understanding, my process in this poem. It's easy for me to miss comments when I'm preoccupied, so please accept this blanket apology for all the comments I miss from time to time. And that is certainly my loss because your comments are works of art as well as valuable insights and incredible encouragement. My deep and humble gratitude always.
Nothing to apologize for.
Nothing to apologize for. Commenting on your poems has become on of my chief delights on postpoems; and, as Dara W--- said about Stevens' poetry, yours pays me back for every moment I spend with it. Just as your poems present the finest quality of verse, they also demand the highest quality of comment that a reader can offer. I would never dare write, on one of your poems, "Great write," or some other two syllable statement.
J-Called
You certainly leave comments
You certainly leave comments that pay ME back in abundance. When I wrote this I never thought it would receive such an in depth and meaningful review. Endless thanks.