This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2005-11-13 14:26:53 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Quorum

Franking the mail is the principal doomsday device for making contagion from hay, like clockwork delivered by DNA, propped up in the pigeonhole every target is known to pass by and inspect with morbid regularity. But relax: when it doesn’t have  your name on it, you don’t die from it—— in that event, the man-sized rat trap, with a touch of HG  Wells about it, will spring that other foreign-looking  guy the surprise that only recent arrivals can be surprised  by i.e. everything they can no longer  take for granted, which is now pretty much everything. Too late, they learn it’s too late to learn English  after your dog’s gone off its Chump. (No, I don’t  follow you.) Wait. There is nothing here to suggest that the bowels of chaos expel structure,  or that the airtight universe that passes through  us will leave a residue of fairy dust to powder  over our next life, or that can-openers are more useful  than sparrows farting at sunrise, or that gratitude  will accompany our noses stubbing at speed into what appears  to be the extrinsic nature of this life: your very personal litany of replete condoms does not undo this. Fact. But when you do get your discharge papers——yours——and feel pressed  by the (is that—?) eagerness of your family members to watch you spring them open, watch: instantly the clock starts  running backwards, your child becomes a sunset, or more  accurately the adolescent hope of a shared sunset  one day. Snap. Immediately, doesn't that set you wondering  who you’re going to spend eternity with? Or how crowded  it is in there and, critically, whether you will float.

Copyright © November 2005 Mark Andrew Hislop


This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-12-01 14:15:54
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.96296
Dear Mark: Title: Quorum “Franking” is a word I had not encountered before, but learned it means the marking of the mail as ‘postage paid’ and therefore it, with many other references, alerts me to the theme of this poem, along the lines of ‘your time’s up, what’re you gonna do about it?’ “the mail is the principal doomsday device for making contagion from hay, like clockwork delivered by DNA” I’ll admit to being a bit lost here. I get the reference to DNA being a sort of incendiary device, with codes for deadly diseases locked within. But as you reassure us, “when it doesn’t have your name on it, you don’t die from it.” It takes a combination of factors to trigger the DNA ‘doomsday device’ – many of which remain unknown to us. Then, I believe you are referencing a coffin, the “man-sized rat trap” or perhaps it could be a car? In any event, it seems to be the conveyance in which one arrives (“recent arrivals can be surprised”) in the land of death, perhaps the Bardo of Mahayana Buddhism, the intermediate state between lives, when the mind experiences a series of hallucinations ending in its next birth. I’m still lost in this poem, but very intrigued: “Too late, they learn it’s too late to learn English after your dog’s gone off its Chump. (No, I don’t follow you.) Wait.” Right, Mark, I don’t follow you. I am wandering around in this strange place, aptly named by you, “the bowels of chaos.” “There is nothing” – An existentialist POV, as it sits alone on the line? “sparrows farting at sunrise” – Ah, the nature lover! Auditory imagery! This makes me laugh, as each morning I walk under tree limbs containing not sparrows, but large Canadian geese and mallard ducks. Their sound could be imagined as deafening, rather than the dainty little squeaks of sparrows. “But when you do get your discharge papers——yours——and feel pressed by the (is that—?) eagerness of your family members to watch you spring them open” Humor helps here, as everywhere else in life. There is that eagerness, unacknowledged, for the final gasps to be complete. You make it seem very personal by the emphasis on “yours.” It’s always easier to imagine someone else’s, those being the only deaths that anyone reading has actually experienced so far. You show how time instantly distorts. This makes sense to me as in my lifetime I have experienced events which changed the feel of time. It is reasonable to imagine that entering death does so more markedly. “watch: instantly the clock starts running backwards, your child becomes a sunset, or more accurately the adolescent hope of a shared sunset one day. Snap.” (The silver chord snapped asunder?) “Immediately, doesn't that set you wondering who you’re going to spend eternity with? Or how crowded it is in there and, critically, whether you will float.” The poem does set me to wondering. About how we will sense one another after the “snap” has occurred, and whether we will have freedom to wander about, and what it will feel like and where will we hang our ‘identities’ – will it be like going through the security checkpoint at an airport, when we are divested of those things which normally identify us as individuals? Wondering whether one will float brings up the obverse idea of ‘sinking’ and where would one sink? To? I enjoyed this poem and have gone on far too long making nonsense of my response to it. I hope I have caught some of your ideas. Thanks for the chance to ponder these things! I've enjoyed myself. My best, Joanne


This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-11-26 10:06:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mark, As a whole this has an easy feel to the dialogue. However, I did find that I stumbled with the flow and reading in: Wells about it, will spring that other foreign-looking guy the surprise that only recent arrivals can be surprised for me it broke pace, I just couldn't get a handle on what you were saying with these two lines...call me obtuse-- but there you have it. IMHO, for me the crux's was in your closing: Snap. Immediately, doesn't that set you wondering who you’re going to spend eternity with? Or how crowded it is in there and, critically, whether you will float. As you have so deftly summed it up and in the questions you put forth you appear to be stating, if you don't ask these questions then did you put your brain on auto-pilot when you were reading my dialogue...*smile*. I believe that most people have asked these questions which naturally would lead to more questions and in the fini isn't it just a matter of exceptance, that which will be will be, each according to their belief. For me, I will be about living, the now for that is what I've been given, others will have to find their own truths and deal with them in their way. Your information processing is interesting, it is a shame that those who probably need to read what you've stated will not and if some do- they will be to caught up in their own indulgences to gleam any enlightenment from what you've set forth. I suppose I've made myself clear as mud here, let me close in saying I liked this (I know that is a no-no), I like the structure )couplets I think they are called, and your use/command of the language. Very deep and thought provoking, kudos. Best always, Lora
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2005-11-24 20:49:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.25000
It's all becoming very clear. Whether I will float. I am with you so far. But that Eternity part- whoa. Now you're scarin' me. Sparrow.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2005-11-16 11:16:29
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.28571
MAH, I mentioned something to you on the forum about complexity. Sites like this are not really set up to deal with poetry of a truly higher caliber. Such poetry is to be pondered, savored. The lines grow with you, and YOU grow with the lines, with being exposed to them. Were I to do the intricacies of this poem justice, I would have to print it out and carry it around with me for a few days. Letting it soak in. I think I will do that in the future, and then try to write some really good critiques on poems, like this, that warrant attention. For now, I have another agenda. And I'll take a 5. MSS
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-11-14 17:06:38
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.55556
You know Mark, I was about to hit the "SKIP" button, but decided after reading this thrice, No, I won't do that. I will just tell Mark...I didn't understand a fucking thing! So be it. Am I stupid or what? P.S.: I wish that I could write like you so that people could tell me the same thing!
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