Tidal flows, isolated rock pools,
or complex harbours with sluice gates
and sand bars.
An Art Work in a Car Park
A Tar Work in an Art Park
A Car Work in a Tar Park
A toddler kicks out, sensing freedom,
makes the sound of an idling motor.
I, ache for silence:
a wheezy harumph
a swift departure.
Tractatus Logico Philoparsophicus
A softening of rules here:
the cover-all urban smear of triumph
lifted
PARK ANYWHERE
Car Park
Hi Jules,
I'm guessing a freedom of mind unfettered by a language restrained reality (a nod to the flaws of defining reality only through language). I'm taking child/freedom to key into my read. Either way enjoyed the inventive playfulness/perspectives. The liquidity. Individuality. The elasticity of rules
.
Phil
I'm guessing a freedom of mind unfettered by a language restrained reality (a nod to the flaws of defining reality only through language). I'm taking child/freedom to key into my read. Either way enjoyed the inventive playfulness/perspectives. The liquidity. Individuality. The elasticity of rules
.Phil
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HonourStedman
- Productive Poster
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- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 4:17 pm
The second verse for me presents me with a problem of meaning and relevance, coming hard on the heels of that inciteful comparison of a car park to a section of shoreline/estuary. The rest of the poem, leaving aside the second verse, follows nicely with perhaps just a few punctuation revisions to improve things.
Regards, Honour
Regards, Honour
Two thumbs up - thank you Phil and Honour.
The heart of this for me is the traditional poet's bleat at our destructive dominium. It's true we take possession of the world with our language as well as our tar and our cars, but I wonder if the inclusion of the Tractatus at the end unbalances a tad. There is a sense of freedom in this carpark but it's very ironic.
Honour, you were unsure about the OuLiPo block of Car-Tar-Art/Park-Work permutations. I was imagining the possibility of an unannounced artwork (perhaps made out of tar) appearing in this mostly empty carpark. So it's a piece within the piece, supposedly a glimmer of hope.
Best, Jules
The heart of this for me is the traditional poet's bleat at our destructive dominium. It's true we take possession of the world with our language as well as our tar and our cars, but I wonder if the inclusion of the Tractatus at the end unbalances a tad. There is a sense of freedom in this carpark but it's very ironic.
Honour, you were unsure about the OuLiPo block of Car-Tar-Art/Park-Work permutations. I was imagining the possibility of an unannounced artwork (perhaps made out of tar) appearing in this mostly empty carpark. So it's a piece within the piece, supposedly a glimmer of hope.
Best, Jules