bergman and the chinese market

[sweetwater]

bergman lasted alot longer
than expected
he dreamed himself an island
in the sands made of rhubarb

let's get a drink
he would say
sit down and luck on the
whens of wayward things

there's nothing here
to satisfy the soul
anymore

i am old and seemingly
beyond the epic story itself
the sombre black and white
renditions

of moods and windows

the long intentional moments
in suspension

she turned on the television
snickering at the expense
of her dress

she made robes become
the borrowed offerings
and the appeal
of good sense

i have alot left she said
stop worrying about how
your ideas are morbid
to the point of decay
and rest your head
upon my breasts

bergman thought this absurd
and seemingly unfamiliar
he counted the reasons
as to why he would want
offend such a sweet dame
and refuse her the advice
of her present television
channel

maybe he was dreaming
and she was just talking
out loud

was she referring to me
am i in the same room
is this real

or some photocopy
of my worst moments

she laughed as if
bergman was drowning
in a grouse martha whiskey

yes her name was martha
i do remember now

bergman leaped hitting his
head

had many insights into
those long sombre moments
that seemd to carry itself
through rain delays
and fortune cookie readings
down at the chinese market

all is what it doesn't seem
seemingly it is that way
as if to suggest
or say

bergman had had a very long day

[dadio]

Well said.

[theirishsea]

Interesting at first reading. The communication is just off center enough to keep the thread going and to keep it fresh. This poem demands to be reread again and again. I don't know whether the unique expressions will suddenly be clear or will retain a certain amorphous haze to them I don't know.

I think the first two stanzas illustrate the style of this poem:

bergman lasted alot longer
than expected
he dreamed himself an island
in the sands made of rhubarb

let's get a drink
he would say
sit down and luck on the
whens of wayward things


sands of rhubarb is a surrealistic expression----though there may be a more literal metaphor-image that I'm unaware of at present. I think to think about what rhubarb means and why this image was chosen for this poem. Rhubarbs ,besides the vegetable, are disputes, arguments as in baseball but whether this is appropriate for this context I don't know.

"luck on the whens of wayward things' is an interesting and attractive expression. It resonates with me. I think I understand it. The expression is not a cliché. It captures attention because it is odd or unique. To me it stands out and thus makes what it is saying meaningful, noticeable.

The remaining stanzas of the poem have turns in them that land the reader in unexpected places. Whether everything coheres, or coheres in my understanding of the poem, I'll have to decide after a number of readings. It is an interesting poem that challenges the reader.