[Elle Bruno]

Poetry In The Age Of Cinema
xxxxxxxxxxxJohn Kilroy

Lena got all leather for her motorbike, M. Ducati,
on his kind of night, avenger of clerks & cretins.
Jewel thief because everything is stolen, champagne
sipped from a bota bag on her back, piped into her helmet,
pistol clipped to the back of one boot (this whole game
sometimes gets played that way, and she won't go dead
for being stupid). Maybe a smash and grab. She knows
the city's grid like a coroner loose in veins, alleyways
too narrow for cop cars, tunnels to confuse copters,
little storage units here and there to ditch a bike,
walk off to a nearby bar and call for a ride home.
The way she kneels before him, opens a black glove,
and a string of diamonds lays there like an answer
for everything, a pass in this world to go go go
everywhere now! Then, he'll read her a poem,
and she weeps, and holds onto him like the earth
had split right there in their Echo Park palace,
his body anchored above their abyss. Then,
they make love like a bomb squad's worst day,
and it's so quiet and careful and fevered until
she cuts the blue wire, and then they die ever
so voluptuously. She lives for her four perfect
acts each year, and he must match them, poem
for heist. And that's how they must live. Seconds
gong and the furniture shakes; their tale
available to lightning rods...Richter Scale.

[Richard Meyer]

There's a lot of rollicking fun here, a lot of energetic and wonderful language play. I especially like She knows/the city's grid like a coroner loose in veins and a string of diamonds lays there like an answer/for everything. Those are strong images. But doesn't correct usage call for lies instead of lays?

An interesting piece, but I'm not sure I grasp the point of it all.

Richard

[B.J. Preston]

Well, yes, there's lots of breathless energy and verve in this, lots of admirable flash and razzle in the language – yet there is also the sense that despite having been served a full meal, hunger very much still pangs.

Maybe that's the significance of the title – a piece of writing that aspires to appeal to minds "primed" on slick cinematic display?
(And there again, when I think of "Lena" and cinema, Lina Wertmüller quickly comes to mind; not sure if you're trying to evoke that association, despite the altered spelling).

I suppose, in some ways, one could also almost see this as a poetic approximation of a graphic novel (really more an adult comic-book, perhaps); the ending has features that seem designed for the 15-year-old adolescent male brain that Hollywood banks on in the summer film season (because they'll pay to see the same mindless action thriller with notes of babes-in-leather, themes of rebellion, raunchy humor, etc, 10 or more times). I dunno – I did enjoy reading this on some level and while I can appreciate the cleverness of much of the phrasing, the whole just doesn't have much staying power, and little that would compel me to continue to re-visit.
.

[Elle Bruno]

Hi John/Clem,
Like previous comments, I like the movement in this piece, a sort of catch-a-tiger-by-the-tail energy that is admirable.
Sometimes that's half the battle in a poem.
You won that half.

My idea of the narrative is along the lines of BJ's:
A graphic novel or grade B movie: stereotypical tough chick on bike robs high class joints, gets chased by police/helicopters/the whole damn force, steals for the big man with the heart of a poet, they have a pact, they weep, they screw, the world implodes. Fade to black.

You have nice lines:
The way she kneels before him, opens a black glove,
and a string of diamonds lays there like an answer
for everything, a pass in this world to go go go
and this:
and it's so quiet and careful and fevered until
she cuts the blue wire, and then they die ever
so voluptuously
Yes, very cinematic.

I'd cut this as unneeded and breaking the momentum:
(this whole game
sometimes gets played that way, and she won't go dead
for being stupid).

I think this would sound good read aloud.
Thanks, Elle

[dorianne laux]

Yes to all everyone has said. I chose this poem because I admired the energy of it, and those wonderful images that have been pointed out. I also agree that this is a poetic approximation of the B movie, but as with B movies, there's often not much going on under the surface. I guess that's what I'm missing here, another heart beating more deeply below ground. This is where I think you might cut into it:

She lives for her four perfect
acts each year, and he must match them, poem
for heist. And that's how they must live...

It seems that's an opportunity to move into deeper territory and say something that could open us up to whatever runs beneath the mindless B movie caricature and into some real human concerns. Maybe something mundane, even Ray Carveresque, something more quiet, less expected.

[Lance Levens]

This may be the way back for narrative poetry: B grade scenarios.
But, as Dorianne points out, the author needs to cut more deeply; otherwise it's still just B grade.

[James Brancheau]

Hi John and Clem,

Yeah, I really like the energy here too, like much of what I've read from you. Using that voice in this B movie setting... good stuff. I'll probably be in the minority, but I might cut from "She lives for her four perfect" and on. I could see where that might work in this genre, this explaining, but it might be worth exploring other options after "they die ever/so voluptuously." I was thinking something along the lines of 'just when they think they're dead they come back to life', but that would be more of a horror/monster movie. Anyway, the close might be worth playing with a little more. I think everything up to that point is quite good. Thanks for the read and good luck with this.

JB

[Tiffany Krupa]

Hi John,

I agree that there needs to be something deeper grounding to this. Changing the title to something more immediate, like "The Script Pitch" or "Pitching the Script Over the Racket of Baseball," which can be a coy way of getting across how guys feverishly pitch...many things.

Like others have said, reading this out loud is great fun. It would make a great monologue between two guys playing racket ball - hey, what about calling it The Monologue?

When you read it at an event, you could pitch it to a specific member of the audience, kind of like at the original beginning of John Patrick Shanley's Italian American Reconciliation where Joey Pantoliano talks to the audience in this slick and speedy, New York-Italian accent.

In any case, it is great fun to play with the delivery of this - sorry I'm no help with language, yet. I'll think on it and see if I can offer more feedback.

Thanks for the read,

Tiffany

I looked up Pulp Fiction as well, but didn't find what I was looking for to justify suggesting that as a road into the poem.

[Clem]

A big tip of the hat to Ms. Laux for taking the time to read my poem and share her thoughts. You’re a huge talent, and this is a fun experience. I didn’t know exactly what was about to take place, but I sure was curious. It’s a bit stunning to think that Dorianne Laux read my poem. I’ll add this experience to my letters from Tom Robbins and Seamus Heaney! Thank you! Most of all, thank you for your bravery, abandon and discipline that's in your poems.

And another tip of the hat to Elle for organizing this. It was such an out-of-this-world suggestion to me that Ms. Laux would actually come here to play. Jeez. How did this happen?!?! I never saw something like this coming. Thanks so much, Elle, for thinking these kinds of big thoughts and getting them to happen.

Richard, B.J., Lance, James, Tiffany…thank you for taking the time to read the poem, think through it and comment. Much appreciated.

Quick story: I went to a poetry reading in the back of a big pizza parlor, Italian restaurant, where they actually had a stage.

A very talented and bold LA poet came up to the microphone and announced she was going to read her poem about threesomes.

Suddenly, she stopped, as her eyes popped wide open, and said, “Oh, wait, there’s people eating.”

Never heard the poem.

Dig you all,


John
“Clem”
cyberclem@aol.com

[Michael Cantor]

Great energy. (I'd like to be able to crit this with another word for "energy", because that's what everyody is saying, but I can't find one that works as well. It's muscular. Energetically energetic, with a kind of...well...energy.

And admirable. I don't write this way myself, but it made me stop and think. It's different and arresting, without seeming contrived, and that isn't easy.

Thought for the future. This might work better expanded into a series of film-related riffs into the American subconscious. Add on a sappy love story (see if Tom Hanks is available), a Clooneyish corporate law fantasy with starched shirts and high collars, and maybe something with robots and/or zombies.