Aporia Avenue

Footfalls echo in the memory
down the passage we did not take;
instead we took the avenue of apathy,
moonful children exploring half-hearted
graveyards with lichen-covered stones
over row upon row of mouldering bones.

What was at the end of the passage,
the one we did not take? A message
of hope, a future of happiness,
a place without doubt,
or was it just a pathless path
where the track gives out?

Kim M. Russell, 10th May 2018

Aporia Avenue

My response to dVerse Poets Pub Meeting the Bar: Bridging the Gap

Amaya is our host for Meeting the Bar this week, asking us to ‘bridge the gap’ She asks if we have ever seen or participated in those challenges that ask us to grab the second to top book on our nightstands, turn to page 111 and copy the fifth sentence of the third paragraph. Amaya says the likes to look at the spaces formed by the random sentences, like abstract art, and see if she could connect them somehow or just treat herself to a little brain candy.

Which is why she asks us to don our hard hats and build bridges by selecting two quotes from two different books (poetry, prose, technical, non-fiction, anything) and then construct poems using one quote as the opening line and the other as the closing line. She says the blood, sweat, and tears will come while filling in the space between. We may modify the quotes to fit our poems’ rhythm or rhyme schemes, but we must be sure to provide the original quotes, authors, and works in a postscript.

I picked up a book of poetry by T.S. Eliot and took the first quote from ‘Burnt Norton’:

“Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.”

The next book that caught my eye was David Lodge’s, The Art of Fiction. I flicked to the end and found this:

‘Aporia is a Greek word meaning “difficulty, being at a loss”, literally, “a pathless path”, a track that gives out.’

29 thoughts on “Aporia Avenue”

  3. You’ve worked this very well – I wouldn’t have known where the quotations began and ended. It’s quite bleak, but I like it. I don’t know that we have as much choice as we think we have.

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    1. Thank you, Sarah. I think I was having a bleak moment when I wrote it. I’ve cheered up a bit, though, especially after the bounce and Rhyme session this morning. 🙂

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  4. I’ll echo Jane’s comment as if the two quotes were separated by a canyon long ago, just waiting for your bridge-poem to come along and make them whole again. Though, that description of the avenue of apathy was eerie and I hope I’ll never get caught on that path.

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    1. The amazing thing is that I’ve read that David Lodge book several times over a number of years and this is the first time that particular quote has jumped out at me.

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  6. Good question Kim! I guess we may not ever know the answer to such a question, but we sure can enjoy and feel the beauty of the asking. I agree with Jane, seamless. I characterize this as ruminant rather than bleak. Thank you.

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  14. Ah Kim….you “bridged the gap” so well here! The idea of “moonful children” — such a excellent descriptor for what you are describing here. And the title is perfect for the entire write….and most especially how it leads to that last line. Well done! It was a great prompt, right?

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