Showing posts with label Alexa A.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alexa A.. Show all posts

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Greatest Hits Gallery--Alexa A.



That''s an acoustic version of "Yellow," first song played on MTV after the network resumed normal programming following 9/11. It's hard to write about popular music, especially in a fresh way that goes somewhere beyond a description of a song or the memorializing of a moment. Alexa's "Parachutes," inspired by the Coldplay album, starts out as, I think, primarily a memorial poem, but the images and evocative diction take it somewhere else. She refers mostly to the song "Always", a clip of which is below the poem.

Parachutes--Alexa A.

In a haze, a stormy haze,
the saltless smell of soggy
alewife corpses constrained us
to a summer behind glass.
Bright, yellow rafts and sunshiny
towels packed tight into a
too small basement closet
while we sprawled and spread
pages open. I can’t
remember if the hero won
his treasure because my
skimming eyes dove under
and around names and places,
trying to stream over pages
like dad did whole books.

The five of us nested
in our quiet corners
and the echoing slide of
fingers over strings and across
turning pages kept our
forgotten time, while the rain
sang, “I’ll be around,
I’ll be loving you always.”



Alexa also wrote a series of poems on Marc Cagall's "Above the Town," taking each one "deep and deeper contextually." An image of the painting and the third and final poem in the series is below. As earlier pieces move through place and history, this final poem is more intimate, a different kind of deep context.



III.

How many girls did he touch
this way, before one shrouded
kiss with her froze time?—
a still life, like magic, takes form.

Aniouta was the first. He kissed
her as he pleased—once, twice,
today, and tomorrow—on benches
and in front of courtyard gates.

He timidly felt her uneven, pimpled
face and wanted nothing more.
But now her face blurs with
adolescence, obscured by Bella’s
mountain-ash,
“misty green touched
here and there with red”
tied in bouquet and clutched to her
breast by slender, timid fingers,
and he leaves his widowed church
up on the hill to fade into shadowy
forest and a faintly outlined bird
house he forgot to paint over.

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Art Institute Poems--Alexa A.


Head of Guardian King
Originally uploaded by Daniel Lestarjette

Head of Guardian King--Alexa A.

Once Buddha’s mountain soldier,
A guardian against evil spirits,
Speaking the first word of the universe.
Now the unblinking eyes stare into
Undulating museum lights
With unwavering ferocity
While an eight year old boy
Snaps and flicks a wall switch
Bringing the guardian king to life
Under the blare. He speaks words
Of doom and damnation
Into the gaping, gummy mouth
Of the once king, threatening to
Kill me with one toothless,
Rubber band bite.

The boy skips past Joan of Arc
And busts of Italian women,
To shove his fingers
Up the nose of the king
With his storm cloud eyebrows
And bulgy, colorless eyes—taunting
All the monsters in his closet
That have fought back until now.
Mom reminds him, “just don’t put anything
In your mouth.” But he tastes with
Eight year old hands and bony fingers
Tickling the tongue of the touch
Gallery king and allowing the guardian
To taste the salty fingers lingering with
Happy meal grease, frantic to swallow
The temperature and texture

Of the head of the guardian king.

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