2025.97

Last week, if you remember, I talked about a poem from Ellen Bryant Voight, and then posted a first draft where I wrote an after-poem, trying to get a feel for her use of enjambment and cadence and imagery. How successful I was at this task is not really the point. I'm merely trying a poem on like clothes. Seeing how it feels. Do I like the fabric? The drape? The color?

Poems I really like infect my head like an RFK Jr. brain worm. The first time I recall this happening, I was 19 and had just read "Praying Drunk" by Andrew Hudgins.

Our Father who art in heaven, I am drunk.
Again. Red wine. For which I offer thanks.

Almost perfect iambic pentameter. All I knew about iambic pentameter was its association with Shakespeare. da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM. I'm actually horrible with scansion. I use a piece of software called Prosodic when I decided that a certain rhythm is important to me. Back when I was in school, we had exercises to do it by ear and I always fucked it up. Same thing with a drum beat—I simply can't keep it. I hear something else.