Poem Analysis: "The Street" by Stephen Dobyns

The Street

Stephen Dobyns

Across the street, the carpenter carries a golden
board across one shoulder, much as he bears the burdens
of his life. Dressed in white, his only weakness is
temptation. Now he builds another wall to screen him.

The little girl pursues her bad red ball, hits it once
with her blue racket, hits it once again. She must
teach it the rules balls must follow and it turns her
quite wild to see how it leers at her, then winks.

The oriental couple wants always to dance like this:
swirling across a crowded street, while he grips
her waist and she slides to one knee and music rises
from cobblestones--some days Ravel, some days Bizet.

The departing postulant is singing to herself. She
has seen the world's salvation asleep in a cradle,
hanging in a tree. The girl's song makes
the sunlight, makes the breeze that rocks the cradle.

The baker's had half a thought. Now he stands like a pillar
awaiting another. He sees white flour falling like snow,
covering people who first try to walk, then crawl,
then become rounded shapes: so many loaves of bread.

The baby carried off by his heartless mother is very old and
for years has starred in silent films. He tries to explain
he was accidentally exchanged for a baby on a bus, but he can
find no words as once more he is borne home to his awful bath.

First the visionary workman conjures a great hall, then
he puts himself on the stage, explaining, explaining:
where the sun goes at night, where flies go in winter, while
attentive crowds of dogs and cats listen in quiet heaps.

Unaware of one another, these nine people circle around
each other on a narrow city street. Each concentrates
so intently on the few steps before him, that not one
can see his neighbor turning in exactly different,

yet exactly similar circles around them: identical lives
begun alone, spent alone, ending alone--as separate
as points of light in a night sky, as separate as stars
and all that immense black space between them.

Response:

I’ve never read a Stephen Dobyns poem before, so this was definitely interesting to me…. I really love how kept each stanza to one or two people—each having equal number of lines, importance, and even line length. I also liked how the backstories for the characters seemed to be relatable. He used what resources were in the painting and didn’t attempt to turn away from it, or come up with something incredibly bizarre or trite for each.  The tone of this poem was very somber, as well, despite the fact that the street is full with the hustle and bustle of people. And the tone is even established in the very end, where Dobyns describes the notion that despite these people residing in the same space, they’ll never interact with each other. It’s a depressing thought, but more or less true—especially in our lives.

Poem Analysis: "What Do Women Want?" by Kim Addonizio

What Do Women Want?

Kim Addonizio

I want a red dress. 
I want it flimsy and cheap, 
I want it too tight, I want to wear it 
until someone tears it off me. 
I want it sleeveless and backless, 
this dress, so no one has to guess 
what's underneath. I want to walk down
the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store 
with all those keys glittering in the window, 
past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old 
donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers 
slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, 
hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders. 
I want to walk like I'm the only 
woman on earth and I can have my pick. 
I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm 
your worst fears about me, 
to show you how little I care about you 
or anything except what 
I want. When I find it, I'll pull that garment 
from its hanger like I'm choosing a body 
to carry me into this world, through 
the birth-cries and the love-cries too, 
and I'll wear it like bones, like skin, 
it'll be the goddamned 
dress they bury me in.

Response:

What I really love about Kim Addonizio’s work is that she

tends to keep things from sounding pretty—what I mean is that she tries her
best not to write her poems as if she were some other writer. Rather, she
writes it as it is—she doesn’t make an image beautiful, so much as she tells
the truth about the image. With her poem, “What Do Women Want?”, it’s no
different. The beginning lines about the dress, about how she wants it flimsy
and cheap, is not what most people consider being the typical ideal. Rather,
it’s more a reality to get a dress like that (something durable, but not too
expensive). Because of this, she portrays herself as a woman with a sense of
mystery, rather than someone anyone would see anywhere. I also liked how in
this poem she juxatpozes the act of walking out in a scandalous dress with the
images of the townspeople going about there day. It really shows just how much
she wants the red dress for a sense of power and authority, making the image
stronger. 

Observing the Ordinary--Poem 1

                                                   

KACPER PEMPEL August 9, 2013

On the Computer at Midnight

These days, I’ve become more aware

of it in front of me—another body

with access to all,

with super, special superpowers

turned up to one-hundred-and-ten

percent.

A psychologist listening

to the buzz of celebrity night confessions,

parasitic pop-ups,

turtle sex,

and statuses

of unrequited love.

A flick of a keystroke,

a trace of my thumb against it’s

sensitive, small underbelly

and it purrs.

It’s still living, it says.

But it knows it can’t go on without me.

Which is a sad thing.

Most days, I give it the juice it needs,

because on those some days,

when I forget,

I’ll witness the worst—the instance

when its light blips out,

And I find my face reflected,

where it’s face used to be.

--Rachel Doda