Diane Corson, House of Walls
My Talking Head
Not
the same as it ever was
while my body decided to break down
in small significant increments
that end to end with nothing
Not
the same as it ever was
while my mother died holding my hand
asking for nothing or any ceremony
that might have involved people and sympathy
Not
the same as it ever was
when the snow of yesterday did not
remain to be recognized today
the watch baking under its guise
Not
the same as it ever was
while you danced with the Ibis head
on your shoulders to stomp out your
fears while barefoot
Not
the same as it ever was
while the Ibis feet danced at the shore
with another in a baboon mask
so that I soon knew you
Not
the same as it ever was
when I saw no other reason
to challenge the renowned sacred texts
which you left behind in my car
After Talking Heads: Same as it Ever Was
__________________________
Diane Corson
Review by Jared Pearce
I once sent some poems to an editor under the title, Yazoo’s Second Album. He rejected the suite but added the comment that he at first hoped the poems would be a comment on, well, Yaz’s second album. I like the consideration Corson makes here: while life can be, as the band has it, the same as it ever was, life also has certain moments, scenes, experiences that are not the same as anything but that still encourages me to sing along to a good song.