On that 16th C. Map of the World back home, hanging decoratively on the wall, i can’t shake the presence of the creature, moving like a pulse rate, monitored on life support machinery, snaking through dark acrylic waters, a cautious galleon nearby, sailors praying for shrouding mist, superstitious mist, drunk on scurvy & weak rum, the sea making them drunkest— this is before Jim Cook discovered fresh fruits cure scurvy. Just once, the creature needs to dive & rudder up through the hull, the mizzen mast crashing into the central mast, the lookout plunging into that gaping butcher’s-drawer-mouth full of tools for gnashing flesh apart. The galleon lost, the crew, meat. i don’t eat meat like that creature, so it goes that i am better than a creature. We are all a sinking ship.

Posted by:DPM

DPM is an idea-logue (sic) and object-oriented speculative realist, attempting to be response-able in an irresponse-able society.

7 thoughts on “Thinking out loud the creature’s destructive capacities in decorative maps

  1. I have now read through this five times, which is more than I do for most poems on the web. Yes, I know it’s prose, but who am I to talk!

    1. It’s good to know this impelled you to repeat read. What is it about the piece? i should really just say these are all written for you to read, i don’t know as they really appeal to anyone else, but i ain’t moaning, i’d say one Marie = well, you tell me how many blog reader’s you =. i’d say it’s at least a dozen.

      1. What’s it about the piece? I don’t know as I’m in that kind of analytical mood today. Ask me after breakfast.

      2. Firstly, please don’t be tempted in any way to write to please ME. Write what you naturally write, how you naturally write it; and/or explore stuff, but be DPM exploring. What, I wonder, am I getting from this piece? It really is difficult to be analytical today. Flashes of The Ancient Mariner, water everywhere. Very visual flashes of the here-be-monster chawin’ his way through the hull of a barquentine like a chainsaw cutting a dry log, but with the stain of red briefly highlighting the grey of the faded ink ship before it, the monster, and all but a few hints of matchwood sink below the surface of the velum; but also a welcoming of destruction, the kind of thing that drove Primo Levi to (possibly) throw himself down a stairwell. The last sentence is stark, a thump in the solar plexus. I also rather like the irreverence of ‘Jim Cook’.

      3. No i don’t really write with anyone in mind, but these Thinking out loud poems were somewhat influenced by your leaps of theme & openness to form & content. i think i can only write like me now, i think so, i didn’t really try mimicking for a long time now.
        Your analysis is a piece of literature in itself. i oddly didn’t have the Mariner in mind. It came from just remembering that fact about Jim Cook & discovering fresh fruits solved scurvy & tying that with my decorative map in England, which i actually love & studied closely after reading Heart of Darkness & going through a brief stage of being fascinated by old maps & especially those of Opicinus de Canistris, who actually made it into a Charlie poem somewhere.
        Interesting you picked on a “welcoming of destruction” as i get older the sea change of age makes me more interested in destruction, which concerns me, as it is very easy to cross into cliche. i for a long time had no interest in decay or ugliness, but it fascinates me now. Whatever that say about me.

      4. I hadn’t considered Conrad, but your mentioning decay, ugliness, and destruction put me in mind of W.G. Sebald’s novels (for want of a better term). Sebald was well aware of Conrad, even including a brief biographical description of his journeys in the Belgian Congo in one of his books; and the major themes of S’s writing are the Holocaust (more specifically, what has been lost because of it) and the allied destruction of German cities. How far can we ramble off-topic?

        By the way, I find the comments field in your chosen theme very difficult to read, no matter which reading-glasses I put on. I have to squint at the screen.

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