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In Infinite Search for Infinite Inspiration
| Critical Analysis #1 |
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In Infinite Search for Infinite Inspiration |
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J.L. Humphres Member
since 2000-01-03
Posts 201Alabama |
I entered opposite the nightstand, holding the daily in one hand, my steaming chipped coffee cup in the other. Kerouac's in my back pocket, (more nearly my soul) his breath's in the warm Spanish night. I left good intentions, deserted them on the beaches of Yesterday, or in the rooms above Hiatus Street. I thought I had almost found myself, in some stream of conciousness, but the reflection rippled. Somewhere in this broken place, there had to be a whole, one entire thought. The soft, warm, flesh of senioritas, called with their scents, the sirens of the desert. The ravenous night yearned for me, I could hear the streets, feel the music. But the ghost of God, entered without invitation, with no inspiration. There I sat in my sell, with the bargaining, still to be done. So I lit my last cigarette, and descended to the ends, of my Mexican nights. --Jason < !signature--> Jason I...I have seen the best minds of my generation... --Allen Ginsberg [This message has been edited by J.L. Humphres (edited 02-16-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Jason L. Humphres - All Rights Reserved | |||
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warmhrt Senior Member
since 1999-12-18
Posts 1563 |
Jason (nice to see ya back), Excellent little piecea work ya got here. I loved the imagery, and the wording was fantastic. I especially liked: "I thought I had almost found myself, in some stream of consciousness, but the reflection rippled." It kinda speaks of the whole poem. Great work, Jason, Kristine there's a hell of a good universe next door;lets go ~ e. e. cummings |
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Ryan Member
since 1999-06-10
Posts 297Kansas |
I really like this one. I especially like the mood you set and the accompanying imagery. I entered opposite the nightstand, holding the daily in one hand, my steaming chipped coffee cup in the other. Nice description here to set the scene. It's not complicated, and it doesn't try anything too poetic. It just shows what's going on in a way that anyone can visualize. Kerouac's in my back pocket, (more nearly my soul) I think that this is a very important part of the poem. Having read "On the Road" and some other Kerouac, I understand his connection to Mexico City. It's sort of like his Lost City of Gold that he's always searching for. Anyway, I think bringing him into the poem helps set the mood for the rest of the subject matter. his breath's in the warm Spanish night. I left good intentions, deserted them on the beaches of Yesterday, or in the rooms above Hiatus Street. Nice set of lines. I like the idea of "the beaches of Yesterday" since i go for abstract concepts like that. And you appease people who don't like abstract with the next line. Nice job there. I thought I had almost found myself, in some stream of conciousness, but the reflection rippled. Somewhere in this broken place, there had to be a whole, one entire thought. On the whole, this section is well written, but it could be expanded on. It presents some interesting metaphors and ideas, but then they seem to be abandoned in the rest of the poem. You might also want to think about writing a whole other poem just based on these ideas because I do find them very interesting. The soft, warm, flesh of senioritas, called with their scents, the sirens of the desert. Nice comparison here. I would get rid of the comma after senioritas though. Also, maybe try spelling it the Spanish way, "señoritas." (the ñ is alt-164). That's minor, but it adds a little native flavor to the poem. The ravenous night yearned for me, I could hear the streets, feel the music. Another nice set of lines. Perhaps expand on what you could hear the streets saying. It could insight into your poem. But the ghost of God, entered without invitation, with no inspiration. To be honest, these lines don't really make much sense to me. I'm not sure how they fit in with everything else. There I sat in my sell, with the bargaining, still to be done. So I lit my last cigarette, and descended to the ends, of my Mexican nights. I'm guessing (especially because of the Kerouac reference earlier) that this last section is referring to a Mexican prostitute. I like the play on words with "sell" so that it could also be seen as "cell." The ending is good. It fits with the prostitute idea. I'd get rid of the comma after "ends." Ummm, now, as I go back, I see there are a lot of line breaks where you add commas that probably aren't needed (unless you have them there on purpose). I would get rid of the commas at the ends of lines 1, 10, 13, 16, 22, 25, 26, 28, 29. I think I got those line numbers right. Anyway, I still really liked the poem, just think that it has some room for expansion. Ryan I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion. —Jack Kerouac |
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J.L. Humphres Member
since 2000-01-03
Posts 201Alabama |
warmhrt, Thank you, it is good to be back. I haven't had much time between the school paper, classes, and other activities. Thanks for the comments. The line you mention really does lend to some explanation of what took me out on this little "hiatus" (did you catch that). Helps to set the mood I agree. J. Ryan, "But the ghost of God, entered without invitation, with no inspiration." I'm sorry, you are right this is somewhat confusing. I'm playing on a quote I once made to a friend. I was asked if I believe God is dead, in reply I gave: "If God is dead then poetry is his ghost." Kinda cheesy. As far as the commas go, it is just force-of-habit it's the way I write open rhythym poems, I like commas, commas are pretty cool.  "There I sat in my sell, with the bargaining, still to be done." Interesting idea you had, but alas my muse is no prostitute with a heart of gold. Instead this is a simple poem about wanting to write, coming up with tremendous partial ideas, but being unable to finish a thought. "So I lit my last cigarette, and descended to the ends, of my Mexican nights." So I wrote enough to satisfy myself; then went downstairs and enjoyed the rest of the night...my last night in Mexico. Thanks for the critique it really is appreciated. Maybe this will clear things up a bit. You're right this poem does need expansion. J.L.H. Jason I...I have seen the best minds of my generation... --Allen Ginsberg |
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Ryan Member
since 1999-06-10
Posts 297Kansas |
Lol, well, it looks like I got that one wrong. Oh well, I still liked it. Ryan |
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