Skip to main content

Poem by Carrie Etter

Eyewear is delighted to welcome Carrie Etter (pictured) this Friday. Etter is an American poet resident in England since 2001. She used to live in Normal, Illinois and southern California.

In the UK her poems have appeared in, among others, The Liberal, Poetry Review, PN Review, Shearsman, Stand and TLS, while abroad they've appeared in places such as Aufgabe, Barrow Street, Columbia and The New Republic. Subterfuge for the Unrequitable, a pamphlet, was published by Potes & Poets in 1998.

She is an Associate Lecturer in Creative Writing for Bath Spa University and a tutor for The Poetry School.


The Honeymoon of Our Attraction

The honeymoon of our attraction subsided abruptly,
as though after a summer in a beach cottage I resumed
the urban and a drinking spout’s arc became the only water
I put my mouth to.

If then I’d painted the seaside town from memory, I’d have chosen
watercolours for the streaks of illumination become impalpable.
Incarnate rode the subway stink, the traffic din, the elusive
beauty of passing faces.

Yet months later the dune grasses, smelling of transience,
smelling of risk, scratch my palms with their long blades.
Where did they come from? Of the wave’s surge I know only
I stand soddened.


Poem by Carrie Etter;
originally published in Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art

Comments

Ben Wilkinson said…
I liked this: the language isn't afraid to be rich, grand, descriptive, and truly poetic. I also appreciate the length of the lines: the rhythm of a line is there to be expanded and explored, and yet you don't see long poetic lines being used enough in contemporary poetry (exceptions spring to mind, of course; David Harsent, for example). A beautiful couple of closing lines too, very moving and thought-provoking.
Area 17 said…
Agreeing with everything ben says!

I love the "Incarnate rode the subway stink" start of the third line, and "the elusive beauty of passing faces" from the second stanza is a knock-out in itself.

The description of dunes (dune grasses) is spot on, and brings back both physical personal memories, and memorable film classics I've watched on many a rainswept impassable Saturday or Sunday afternoon.

Popular posts from this blog

CLIVE WILMER'S THOM GUNN SELECTED POEMS IS A MUST-READ

THAT HANDSOME MAN  A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought.  Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart?  A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional.  Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were.  For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ?  Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets.  But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ?  How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular.  John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se.  What do I mean by smart?

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and  Silence of the Lambs .  I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".