Robert CJ Graves is a master of imagery. His poems bathe us in it (Green House, Queen Learjet, The God of Apathy, Look for Jack Buddha, No Swimming). He and his wife Emily will be moving from Kansas to Georgia to take on new jobs as professors at Paine College. Journeys are metaphors in themselves; let’s see what this transition holds in store for us as lucky readers of Robert’s work.
The Crusaders
By Robert CJ Graves
By Robert CJ Graves
The pews are stained mad plum.
This is an oily thing.
The party found its dark root alive,
squirming in the church cellar.
With pick-axes and spades,
they waylaid that dark vein until
spouts of poison sprouted and bloomed
in congealing spatter.
From this grisly blossom they made
fire and war paint, then filled their bowls
and their bowels with the mad matter.
Scary and vivid.
Wow, Robert, this is surreal.
This poem, from it’s beginning image of pews “stained mad plum”, is a powerful example of word choice and line breaks. Great work!
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