19 Dec: "Tenor" By Luther Hughes

Luther Hughes talked about how the painter Jeam-Michel Basquiat was a muse for him in this poem "Tenor" on The Poetry Magazine Podcast. Below is the painting that inspired the poem.




After  Jean-Michel Basquiat
Crows
               and more crows.
One crow
               with a rat
                              hanging
               from its beak,
sloppy
               and beautiful.
Another crow
               with its wings
                              plucked
               empty.
I wanted
               so much of today
                              to be peaceful
               but the empty crow
untethers
               something in me: a feral
                              yearning for love
               or a love that is so full
of  power,
               of  tenderness,
                              the words
               fall to their knees
begging for mercy
               like tulips
                              in wind.
I don’t wear the crown
               for the times power
                              has tainted
               my body,
but I can tell the difference
               between giving up
                              and giving in.
If  you can’t, ask the crow
               that watches me
                              through the window,
               laughing as I drink
my third bottle of wine.
Ask the sound
               the tree makes
                              when the crow has grown
               disgusted
with my whining.
After years of repression,
               I can come clean.
                              I was a boy
               with a hole
other boys
               stuffed themselves into.
I have wanted
               nothing to do with blackness
                              or laughter
               or my life.
But about love,
               who owns the right,
                              really? Who owns
               the crow
who loves fresh meat
               or the crow who loves
                              the vibration
               of its own throat?
Everything around me
               is black for its own good,
                              I suppose.
               The widow,
the picture of the boy
               crying on the wall,
                              the mirror
               with its taunting,
the crows
               that belong
                              to their scripture.
Can you imagine
               being so tied to blackness
                              that even your wings
               cannot help you escape?
About my life,
               every needle,
                              a small prayer.
               Every pill, a funeral
hymn.
I wanted the end
               several times
                              but thought,
               Who owns this body, really?
God?
               Dirt?
                              The silly insects
               that will feast
on my decay?
Is it the boy
               who entered first
                              or the boy
               who wanted everything
to last?

3 comments:

  1. This is the type of poem I love to read. It's not too abstract; it's very philosophical; there is a narrative; and it challenges us as readers to think about the questions asked. It's darkly depressing, but it keeps space for the reader to see hope.

    I love the connections between the crows, the boy, and the narrator.

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  2. Allie Jo DreadfulwaterJanuary 5, 2019 at 11:47 PM

    Whoa. This poems really stands out among the majority of the ones we have read so far. When writing comes from this place it holds such an audience...as you mentioned, the questions and narrative give us enough background to FEEL so much here. I kept wondering how he found himself within this poem...how the author of the poem places himself inside it as well. It does feel depressing and I loved how you mentioned it "keep[ing] space for the reader to see hope". Such a great comment...!!!! This will definitely be a reread for me in the future. The crow- such a traditional symbol...looked this up in regards to this poem and found this short blog post that I assumed related to this Hughes and was actually in reference to Ted Hughes, the famous poet and husband to Sylvia Plath. We could do an entire month on crows in poetry- wild stuff- we should post some Ted Hughes!

    http://www.faena.com/aleph/articles/symbols-of-the-crow/

    https://www.npr.org/2015/10/10/447156705/sylvia-plaths-husband-ted-hughes-lived-a-life-of-poetry-and-tragedy

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  3. Jimbo’s lost comment:

    I love the crows. They add so much to the poem. Crows represent the typical and cliche death, but crows have been used as symbols of good luck too. Is there a potential for a good luck change for the narrator?

    The connection between the narrator, the boys, and the crows are the strongest. Even with all the freedom of a flying bird, the crow cannot escape its blackness. Niether can the narrator, but that doesn't even seem to be his greatest issue. Of course, it's love.

    The narrator's story is so depressing. And the ending is so powerful. The boy/narrator can't end his life because he doesn't own it. Dam, that's terrible. I'm not sure how I should feel after reading this poem. But it has rocked me!

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