Other People’s Poetry: Sexton’s Metaphors

Weird Poetry

She compared words to swarming bees,

Sometimes to dead ones also,

With their emptied eyes and yellow husk bodies.

To her,

Her infant child’s lips were animals,

Little hungry thirsty animals

Hoping to find warmth in cold institutional beds

Where there isn’t any.




*** I discovered Anne Sexton and her poetry, and it has already inspired more than a few poems. Everyone talks about Sylvia Plath…. There were other mad contemporaries just as good if not better. ***

Other People’s Poetry: Tara Caribou’s “four”


I recently purchased a copy of Tara Caribou’s latest poetry collection, four. This collection is built around the concept of the number four as represented by the four seasons (the four main chapters), and four phases of the moon, four times of day, the four elements, and four different kinds of love.

I hope I didn’t completely botch that explanation….

It was a pleasure to read. Each chapter begins with a photo or two, also created by Tara. In all honesty, I couldn’t choose just one or two… they are all stunning. If you are into nature photography as I am (though I am an amateur, and know shit all about photography), her photos will not disappoint. The final photo right at the very end of the book sums up the feral and mysterious nature of love and self. I couldn’t think of a better visual analogy than the ravenous truly unknowable sea.

Onto the words now….

I have many favourites poems, especially the number/geometry-related ones. I won’t be sharing her poems here — as you really need to buy this book, but I will tell you which poems I loved the most:

Order of Operations features a very interesting spin on repetition, and being someone who finds math intriguing despite potentially having dyscalcula, I found this poem quite pleasing.

System Failure is a clever play on error codes. I enjoyed the high emotion of the first part of the poem. Subsequently, how it decomposes into error messages and binary code is just brilliant.

I Am Fractal… because fractals. If you know anything about me, you will know that I have an obsessive fascination with fractals so this one jumped out at me. The following stanza just made me smile so hard:

My mind is painted as such:

I’m all Euclidean lines and perfect graphs

There’s Order of Operations and square roots

I’m totally into dodecahedrons and trigonometry

Me too, Tara. Me too. I have always fancied myself an irregular nonagon….

Little Robin just made me feel all warm and fuzzy because I have a thing for birds, and robins always make me smile. Wild things that we know we can never keep are always such captivating muses. Nature gives constantly in the realm of senses and inspiration.

Minerals and Vibrations contains such a sense of rootedness to earth and to depth, I felt like I was reduced to an earthworm as I read it, and I swear I could taste the soil in every word.

There are so many dog-earred pages in my copy, so many more poems of loving, longing, losing and regaining in this book. Do get yourself and someone you love a copy of this poetry collection. It will move your heart and soul, and give you a new appreciation for numbers and geometry.

Well done, Tara!




Absorbing Poetry: Destroyer

Weird Poetry

This song is a touch over 11 minutes long. It starts very slow… but it builds and builds and then blows your brain up. Dan Bajar is one of the most fascinating and poetic lyricists I’ve ever encountered. I have never heard anything like Destroyer… and I probably never will. Neither will you.

Every song by this man is pure poetry. But this one… there are no adequate words.

You’re welcome.

Bay of Pigs by Destroyer (Dan Bajar)

Listen, I’ve been drinking
As our house lies in ruin
I don’t know what I’m doing
Alone in the dark
At the park or at the pier
Watching ships disappear in the rain
The world’s just bones
The world is black stones dressed up in the rain
With no place to go but home
Just like Nance
On a night like this, why, she’s pro-stars, pro-sky
All lit up and sick of fighting
Beneath the diseased lighting of the discotheque at night
It don’t mean a thing
It never means a thing
It don’t mean a thing
It never means a thing
It’s got that swing
I’ve seen it all
I’ve seen it all
Magnolia’s a girl
Her heart’s made of wood
As apocalypses go, that’s pretty good
Sha-la-la, wouldn’t you say?
Please remove your spurs
Come to think of it, remove your antlers
Haven’t seen you for ages
I still fly into rages at the mention of your name
Christine White
I think about you often, off in the desert
Laughing your head off in the forest of the night
Say a prayer for the light
So now I live well. I live in the mine
I’m still slinging mud at the towers all the time
I took a walk
And threw up in an English garden
I was born in the North, but my father’s from the South.
Love is a political beast with jaws for a mouth. I don’t care!
You’re upset and have every right to be.
Regretfully, you decline.
Every night was a waste of time.
Every night. Every night. Every night.
You were on the side of good.
I was inside of the sea’s guts,
A crumbling beauty trapped in a river of ice.
A crumbling beauty trapped in Paradise,
Oh yes, it was Paradise!
The tide comes in and the tide goes out again.
I suppose this is the kind of thing we see every day.
The tide comes in. The tide goes away.
Oh, the tide comes in. Yeah, the tide. Yes, the tide.
A ransom note written on the night sky above
Reminds me what-in-particular about this wine I love.
Like a punctured beast, better-off dead,
Compliments going to my head:
La-da-da, la-da-da!
And speaking of my mind (the Sunflower),
And speaking of a world turning sour on you,
I was twenty years old in 1992.
I was bathed in golden sunlight, alright?
I was ripped on dope. You were a ray of sunshine.
I was a hopeless romantic. You were swine.
You’ve got to spend money to make money.
You’ve got to stop calling me “honey”.
Oh world! You fucking explosion that turns us around!
The searchlight slumps over, so sick of the night,
And the kids on the boats, busted in the shipyard
Going down, down, down, down, down, down, down.
You traveled light (all night, every night),
To arrive at the conclusion
Of the world’s inutterable secret,
And you shut your mouth.
I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen it all. I’ve seen it all.
Free and easy. Gentle. Gentle.
The wind through the trees makes you mental for me.
Nancy, in a state of crisis, on a cloud.
Free and easy. Gentle. Gentle.
The wind through the trees makes you mental for me.
Nancy, in a state of crisis, on a cloud.
Free and easy. Gentle. Gentle.
The wind through the trees makes you mental for me.
Nancy, in a state of crisis, on a cloud.
Free and easy. Gentle. Gentle.
The wind through the trees makes you mental for me.
Nancy, in a state of crisis, on a cloud.


*** I do not own any part of this song. But this song might own parts of me.... ***