By Eric Meub
Of course you’ll dine on anything: Good Dog.
What is the world to you but meat and grog?
According to philosophy you chew
because you’re finite: that’s what finite systems do.
The cosmos too is finite, we suppose:
Its energy is constant, science shows.
You could devour it all, and when you’re done,
Its correspondences will still be x-to-one.
Self-consciousness, alas, is not the same.
We spy the self who spies the self...a game
Of nesting dolls into infinity.
There’s little on that menu which appeals to me.
And so, physician, take another bite.
Remind us, all we really need is appetite.
[A previous sonnet was published in the "Tuesday Voice" column on October 8.]
Copyright © 2013 by Eric Meub
Eric Meub, architect, lives and practices in Pasadena. He is the adopted brother of the artist, Susan C. Price. They respect, in their different ways, the line.
Eric I detect an underlying sadness in your sonnets. It maybe just how I read them. I tend to go to the dark places of life in my poems so that could be why I look for that in others. I enjoy your writing very much and look forward to more.
ReplyDeleteEric, indeed, keep 'em coming!
ReplyDeleteOf course, I can assure Ed and others right now that I already have almost a year's supply of your sonnets, wonderfully accompanied by the line drawings of Susan C. Price.
Another great one ! Thanks Eric !
ReplyDeleteWonderful Eric. I'm so happy to see that your poetry is now available.
ReplyDeleteI liked this a lot. Reminds me of Houseman.
ReplyDeleteChuck, would that be John Houseman, the actor? Or perhaps A. E. Housman, the poet?
ReplyDeleteI remembered Chuck once told me that A.E. Housman was possibly his favorite poet, so I now think he was referring to the poet. I skimmed about a dozen of Housman's poems on the Internet, and their apparent sadness reminded me of Ed's comment above. I myself don't get that from Eric's sonnet, which I find more playful that emotion-expressing. I wonder if I misapprehend Housman. Or is sadness more like beauty is said to be, in the feelings of the beholder?
ReplyDeleteI didn't actually think this piece was especially sad. Certainly Housman wasn't. From memory:
ReplyDeleteO, when I was in love with you
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well did I behave.
But now the fancy passes by,
And nothing will remain.
And miles around they'll say that I
Am quite myself again.
From memory! Strong evidence for your statement about Housman's being perhaps your favorite poet!
DeleteThis poem, which I suppose most of has have read at some point in our lives (I certainly remember it), while not necessarily expressing sadness, does, though, it seems to me, address a "sad situation"—was in love, was clean and brave [past tense, he's no longer either], fancies passing, nothing remaining. Makes me think of some of my own limericks lately (including tomorrow's for "Fish for Friday"), their frequent reference to approaching death. While I'm not overcome by sadness and can still function pretty well, there is—necessarily?—something sad there. There has to be. We don't think of ourselves as having been born in order to die!
Eric, please comment on the possibility that "Toby" has some "underlying sadness." Thanks.
ReplyDeleteMy goodness, can't a poor dog get some sleep? I really appreciate these comments! The only sadness in Toby is if we really think we can "be one with nature or animals," which was such a driving motivation of the Romantic school. If we read Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale," we see how elusive that motivation is. We who "want to be one with something" can never really inhabit the mind of a nature which "just is." There are poets like Mary Oliver and Mark Doty who dwell on this window between nature and humankind, and who alternately succumb to or critique the temptation to make nature humanly meaningful or sacred. Robert Pinsky illuminates this topic beautifully in "The Situation of Poetry." For me, knowledge is happiness: to love the dog and recognize the gift of difference. I can't be one with Toby, I know, but I can love the "appetite" to want to be.
ReplyDeleteTHANK YOU, Eric! How appropriate for ME right now, for half an hour ago I wrote to some friends about the loss of our persimmon tree last night (sick trunk, blown over in a stiff wind) and how I had "felt a connection" with IT (not even an animal, but a living creature without a brain or feelings, we think).
DeleteA high point was the evening my wife and I went to Duke University to hear Robert Pinsky talk about poetry! I think I need to check out "The Situation of Poetry"....