Cracks in the Invisible: Poems
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About this ebook
Stephen Kampa’s poems are witty and restless in their pursuit of an intelligent modern faith. They range from a four-line satire of office inspirational posters to a lengthy meditation on the silence of God. The poems also revel in the prosodic possibilities of English’shigh and low registers: a twenty–one line homageto Lord Byron that turns on three rhymes (one of which is “eisegesis”); a sestina whose end words include “sentimental,” “Marseilles,” and “Martian;” sapphics on the death of Ray Charles; and intricately modulated stanzas on the 1931 Spanish–language movie version of Dracula.
Despite the metaphysical seriousness, there is alwaysan undercurrent of stylistic levity — a panoply of puns, comic rhymes, and loving misquotations of canonical literature — that suggests comedy and tragedy are inextricably bound in human experience.
Jennifer E. Brooks
Jennifer E. Brooks is associate professor of history Auburn University.
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Cracks in the Invisible - Jennifer E. Brooks
I. Sightings
To see is to forget; I never tire of such news.
—Donald Revell
Phenomena, Numina, Startling Sparrows
Faced with the world mistaken for the world,
I’m not confused: it seems so sensible
To call the loose, cyclonic pulse of leaves
On sidewalks physics,
and not a miracle.
I understand a prophet undeceives
Himself when, limping by the roadkill curled
Beside the curb, he thinks theodicy
Inadequate for even bestial pain,
Or when, dispersing the loud shroud of flies
That swaddles it, he wonders how the sane
Escape their own conclusions. Sense defies
Every compendium of mystery,
And if I’m senseless, then, for holding this
World most enlightening when its premises
Grow thinnest, I am glad to be struck dumb.
Look: fireflies punctuate the night with green
Epigrams on love, petunias keen
For the dead possum, and electrons hum
Concentric hymns to probability
While leaf-swirls sing in fractal harmony.
Best is this line of sparrows that have shown
Their utter distance from the disapproving
Caws of the crows by fleshing out a moving
Ellipsis leading into the unknown.
Theodicy
Sometimes you wake up inexplicably
Cheerful. Substantial reasons aren’t the issue—
You have a queen-sized bed and clean beige sheets,
And over scrambled eggs you’ll skim an issue
Of Newsweek, The Economist, or Time—
But that this blessing should be given time
And time again—not every day, but often
Enough to keep you from the chic despair
Young artists wear like an expensive watch—
Strikes you as something rich beyond compare.
This gladness almost makes up for the days
You stagger out the front door in a daze,
Having already called your spouse a name
That echoed through the kitchen like a dropped
Plate breaking; hours will pass, and you’ll call home
Only to find your partner has graciously dropped
That morning’s catastrophic argument
And pardoned you the words you never meant.
You’ll leave the office happy, strolling past
A sunlight-rumpled bed of flame-bright