[Frank Hubeny]

The poem describes how we get into trouble and realize that we cannot get out. The details are all imaginary and grotesque so the reader can fantasize a bit or a lot. I would prefer the author were clearer, but he's not.

This is my fantasy about it.

The person in trouble has just died by going through the transom and landing into whatever hell awaits us. As newly dead he is still conscious enough to realize he can't get out, or back to life, and is not sure what kind of cops exist in hell. Those already dead commiserate. They've all been through it. His case is hopeless, of course, since he is dead, forever.

The last two lines make me think this is the correct fantasy:

You think your life is over?
It’s just begun.

Note the comment about your life being over? Note that eternal life in this hell has just begun?

Well, it is just a fantasy. I prefer poetry to be more obvious.

Or, one could fantasize that there is this kid who has long hair and wants to get it cut today. His parents don't want him to cut his hair, so he's just going to get it done himself. Not realizing the shop is closed, because like most of us ("That six-year-old red face calling for momma is yours") he's not that bright, so he climbs up the side of the door and drops through an open transom. When he's inside he realizes he's going to get in trouble and he can't seem to climb out like he climbed in because the transom opens in not out. Then he realizes he doesn't want that hair cut after all, but too late. The cops will give it to him if the barber doesn't.

Or, one could fantasize he is a new born on earth and finally, about six years old, realizes where he is. He realizes he is alive waiting for the barber, caught in the barbershop, expecting to die, but no, his life has just begun.

Or, one could fantasize he just bought this stock that tanked right through the transom...well, I'll stop.

[Lance Levens]

I'm sorry, folks. Frank, you're treating Levine's words as if they have no denotation! First,FIRST, there is a real barber shop and real hair oil and a real boy who's really trapped. The transom is a real transom. That's how symbols work. Before they're a symbol they have to be something real, touchable, seeable.

Then, provided the real place, the barbershop has acquired enough tangible gravity to become a symbol for something else, then, if it has, we can give rein to our metaphorical urges--which seem to be running rampant on this thread--and say the trapped boy is trapped like people in hell are trapped or that he's trapped like a man seated next to an insurance saleman on a transatlantic flight.

Lance Levens

[This message has been edited by Lance Levens (edited January 24, 2008).]

[annie nance]

Ha Ha Frank, but I can't buy your long-haired kid theory. My eighteen year-old son hasn't had a haircut since the eighth grade. His hair is beautiful, but I guarantee you his parents aren't going to be holding him back when he actually wants to get it cut! Your trip-to-hell scenario is more plausible.

Mary Ann's idea is interesting, about the haircut bringing to mind the war and the military draft - something that never occured to me. The poem was published in Levine's 1968 book, Not This Pig, I think.

annie

[This message has been edited by annie nance (edited January 24, 2008).]

[Andrew Kuhn]

This is pretty harsh, beyond tough love to imagining an almost sadistic parental voice. At six the kid's case is closed forever, hopeless? Gee.

Perhaps most sinister is the electric storm of the vibrator. This seems to be mechanically distinct from the close clippers in the next stanza, so what kind of vibrator exactly are we talking about here? Not one that belongs in a barbershop? And note that the we, here, is an adult. The confounding of anxieties that would fit into a Norman Rockwell painting (the kid's haircut) with the abject terror of a child being locked in a store alone over a weekend and possibly an adult victim of serious abuse make this seem both surreal and artistically sneaky. It's unsatisfying, but successfully disorienting and provocative. 1968 indeed.

Andy

[Maryann Corbett]

Lance, I have no argument with the idea that the realness of Levine's picture should be primary, and that we get the symbols and allusions out of the realities.

I could handle the poem entirely that way if it weren't for that transom, and the "six-year-old" age details. Together, they don't compute for me, and that's what has me stretching.

My alternative is to say that the poet meant this to be read as real, but his choices were unrealistic: transoms are too high for small children to get to without ladders, which are not usually conveniently in place and which are too heavy for children to manipulate alone.

I'd be glad to hear how your brain works out those difficulties.

[Lance Levens]

I agree with Andrew: this is harsh, even brutal,but I doubt that N is an advocate of tough love. I think N is saying what most of us intuit, but don't like to think about: Aren't there times when we find ourselves in a cul-de-sac, when crying won't get us out and our lives will be changed permanently? By placing a six year old in this nighmarish situation Levine makes it difficult to see this point.

Maraynn: the transom issue. Could he climb DOWN through a transom from say, street level?

Lance Levens