Body Language


That seventh year
changes the boy.
A beloved tree shatters
his arm; his loyal dog
brings him poison oak;
behind the cellar furnace
he becomes
prey for the gardener.
Boy-explorer dreams
give way
to nightmares in a bunk bed;
strapped in, he cannot
escape, the cast crashes
into his face as he tears
in frenzy
at the itching lesions,
his brain combusts,
conjures up chittering monsters
on the yellow school bus
idling deep in the glossy
green-tile tunnel, blasts
deafening shrieks
from the radio – surely
someone will turn down the radio!
if he screams loudly enough – swells
his body to fill the house
while he looks down on himself
from the ceiling.
As all years end, so this one
ends, but it begins
the years when nothing
ever makes sense again,
as happens to those
whose bodies rebel against
the insults of life.
And so, reliably,
for years of sleep,
he waits for the same
chimera to come for him
on the yellow bus
in the green tunnel,
he listens for the clamor
and hiss
of the absent radios,
and nightly he looks down,
perplexed and wondering,
at his enormous self
as it floats, forever
untethered, above his
little-boy bunk bed,
mysterious and contrary.

"A Man May Change"...Excellent selection!
Marvin Bell writes simply about complex matters. His imagery is unique and transposes
into deeper meaning and interpretation.
I found some kind of correlation between the Wallace Stevens poem above and this one.
Many thanks, William for introducing me to this exceptional writer.

"Body Language" ... As questioned by whillard - I also wish to know the author of
that beautifully written poem...please.

Sorry you deleted that last post, Neil. It took me a while to research but
I have delved into Stevens abstract/conditional world and find that he expresses
his thoughts as the poem's rather than his own. I experienced difficulty trying
to discern his mind set but ultimately gather that change was an important
point of view. Another brilliant poet that contributed immensely to the
literary world.

I was wondering what happened to the Stevens poem - like did I hallucinate it? What little I was able to read was hard for me to understand, but then I have the flu, with feverish fugues, dreams and nightmares, and my brain has been replaced by 3 pounds of mucous, so I'm able to understand even less of everything than normal - and that's a pretty low bar.

My wife says she doesn't see any difference from my usual state. (not true - that's a guy-wife joke, I'm obligated to make one...)

I find "Lament for the Makers" relatable but then I suppose, most of us can.
Sorry to hear you are feeling poorly, William. Having recently recovered myself, can empathize.
Feel better soon!


....and NAP, thanks for the link :)