31 Oct Poets’ Corner: Feela on “Zombie Poets” for Halloween!
It is Halloween, the opening act for the BIG holiday trifecta just around the corner, a night of witches, ghosts and goblins, a celebration of the id that has spread around the globe like a zombie outbreak, (yes, the living dead too), this year coupling with Covid-19 to threaten the civilized (?) world all the more – and invading writer/poet David Feela‘s haunted house of an imagination.
David Feela
Zombie Poets
Maybe Ovid begins this day of the
unread, reciting Latin eulogies,
his waxy white skin luminous as the
moon, followed by blind Milton bemoaning
the paradise he lost, his eye sockets
sunken, his daughter thin as the wisp
of his tattered sleeve, tangled like a serpent
at his feet. Wordsworth grey as the ash
in his fireplace, stirred by his sister
with the tip of her walking stick.
A graveyard of stanzas stumbling,
unstoppable, iambic pentameters
like the shuffling of weary feet. Plath
with her gas, Hart Crane stepping off a ship’s
deck into unfathomable ocean.
So many poets only half-gone, their poems
crawling like ivy over a grimace
of tombstones crooked as yellow teeth.
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