"PLANET DRILL
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Into freedom I see to ascend vibration
Into freedom I see to ascend vibration
To..."
“PLANET DRILL
======
Into freedom I see to ascend vibration
Into freedom I see to ascend vibration
To ascend vibration, a glass wall long enough
Long enough we’ve waited, our heads under desks
Under desks the bombs will all but save us
But save us. But saved, the past is like a brick
Like a brick already I’m living in the house
Living in the house, I live under construction
Construction by those with their heads under desks
Under desks now chairs of the government running
The government running my front deck like a porch
Like a porch, the tomb. But what’s like a deck
A deck is evening, the evening chamber
The chamber as the evening draws back
The evening draws back to planet-original color
Planet-original color, a glass wall
A glass wall long enough to stand by
By then walking myself to glass
To glass the secrets don’t themselves opaque
But opaque an alignment of invisible forces
Forces then together that, forced to, commit
To commit martyrdom, or should have
Or should have martyrdom become its own martyr”
- "Planet Drill," by Jessica Laser, from Boston Review July/August 2013. Oh my God, she is repeating a lot in this poem. And, of course, she would be repeating so much in this poem. Because these are drills. We are taught to repeat drills. And, of course, we repeat a lot of things in our lives. Like what? Sitting on a porch. Glass. Are these drills? Mark Levine uses the word “blithe” in his introduction to Laser’s poems, and I have to say I love that word for this. The speaker in all the poems in the sampler has such an easy feel about her phrasing, her stance.
======
Into freedom I see to ascend vibration
Into freedom I see to ascend vibration
To ascend vibration, a glass wall long enough
Long enough we’ve waited, our heads under desks
Under desks the bombs will all but save us
But save us. But saved, the past is like a brick
Like a brick already I’m living in the house
Living in the house, I live under construction
Construction by those with their heads under desks
Under desks now chairs of the government running
The government running my front deck like a porch
Like a porch, the tomb. But what’s like a deck
A deck is evening, the evening chamber
The chamber as the evening draws back
The evening draws back to planet-original color
Planet-original color, a glass wall
A glass wall long enough to stand by
By then walking myself to glass
To glass the secrets don’t themselves opaque
But opaque an alignment of invisible forces
Forces then together that, forced to, commit
To commit martyrdom, or should have
Or should have martyrdom become its own martyr”
- "Planet Drill," by Jessica Laser, from Boston Review July/August 2013. Oh my God, she is repeating a lot in this poem. And, of course, she would be repeating so much in this poem. Because these are drills. We are taught to repeat drills. And, of course, we repeat a lot of things in our lives. Like what? Sitting on a porch. Glass. Are these drills? Mark Levine uses the word “blithe” in his introduction to Laser’s poems, and I have to say I love that word for this. The speaker in all the poems in the sampler has such an easy feel about her phrasing, her stance.
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