Thyestean (or, how I named this blog)

[I named this blog after the last lines of this poem. Thyestean means cannibal. Some cultures speak of the "divine madness" of poets. This poem is reflective of that tradition. Or perhaps it's a piece of "performance art." You decide.

In the early 1980s, I actually put together a poetry manuscript under the title "Sullen Oblations at Alien Altars". It never really went anywhere. Oh, I think I submitted it to the "Alice James" (?) poetry award but it was unsuited to their needs. It's been gathering dust since. Putting some of those poems up here is my way of reclaiming them and trying to reconnect with my somewhat stunted creative energies. Many of them are flawed from my current perspective but I'm putting them up without editing. It's embarrassing but very interesting to me to see how my mind worked at the time.

I always wanted to write fiction but lacked the discipline or skill to adequately flesh out a story. In my poetry of this time, I see character sketches and suggestions of fuller stories. I'm starting to look at those aspects as a positive thing rather than a failure of my fiction writing. Whatever.]


Thyestean

never knew whence came the word
thurl served with flourishes
and sly smiles cast knowingly.

new mad poets throw their
newest creations out the window,
constructs of possible paths
leading from the crux splaying out
spiderthread trails through their minds.

One particular word toyer took
the poems from his typewriter
and ate them, phrase by phrase,
as soon as they were finished,
the tastes satiating him alone.

the feast done,
no dieties castigated him
as he performed yet
another sullen oblation
at their alien altars.

November, 1981
© 2006, wordlackey for php