Overheard Through the Walls of the Invisible City
. . .telling those who swarm around him his desire
is that an appendage from each of them
fill, invade each of his orifices,–
repeating, chanting
Oh yeahOh yeahOh yeahOh yeahOh yeah
until, as if in darkness he craved the sun, at last he reached
consummation.
Until telling those who swarm around him begins again
(we are the wheel to which we are bound).
–Frank Bidart
I am so moved by Frank Bidart’s work, and I find this poem hauntingly powerful. This is from his volume, Desire. If you are so inclined, here is a very good review by David Gewanter on Boston Review.
I love Bidart, particularly Desire. He’s a master of many voices, and, though some people object to the way he spaces his lines and manipulates capitalization and italics, he has good reason. His work almost feels like theater, reaching drama through accretion and momentum. Thanks for pointing out this review.
D, Good to know you are on the FB page too. Which, given our general overlap of what we find interesting, I’m not surprised.