Down the street, through the alley,
drifting scents of grease and jok.
Onions in a barrel.
Entrails on a hook.
Turn left, off the hill
between hovel houses
and shackled doors,
roofs no higher than a father's head.
Look! A monkey!
A temple.
Smokey joss stick prayers waft up.
A thousand angry gods grin down.
The little gwai-lo, white ghost girl stands,
still.
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4 comments:
a great moment to share....
-Cecil
This is beautiful -- a still life, a Chinese scene on a plate. So "Other," so exotic, spoken with both familiarity and awe. Love it.
My only disagreement is that the title gives you an opportunity to say something else, or comment on the text. So by using the first line of the poem you don't make use of that opportunity. Unless you deliberately choose to. I throw this as a caution, not to rely on stealing the first line, but to *choose* it if it suits the poem. Nomsayin?
I do understand. Thanks, Me. I think that's a good point. At first, it sounded nice: "Down the Street:" familiar, like it was just something down the way from where I lived.
I think that *could* work with this, but there's a good opportunity I'm missing. If you have any suggestions, I'm listening.
I agree with me re the title as a little key to opening the meaning of the poem, or deepen it as the case may be. Not a hard-and-fast rule (are there any really in this form?) but something to use. I love the visual evocation of your experience which is so foreign to me, and yet you give me a sense of what it must have been like - let me take a peek through your eyes. Thanks!
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