{"id":18,"date":"2013-01-13T21:43:05","date_gmt":"2013-01-13T21:43:05","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/?p=18"},"modified":"2013-01-13T22:54:44","modified_gmt":"2013-01-13T22:54:44","slug":"at-the-dead-center-of-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/?p=18","title":{"rendered":"At the Dead Center of Day"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

BKMK Press–UMKC, 36 pages, 1997
\n$6.00<\/p>\n

[reveal heading=”%image% Selection”]<\/p>\n

THE ELVES AT KATYN FOREST<\/span><\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

It started during the night after the burning of many cities.
\nIt started when the soldiers in uniforms the color of miles
\nof muddy road began the forced march of the defeated.
\nThe mud of the vanquished and the mud of the victors<\/span><\/p>\n

indistinguishable. Prisoners became guards, guards prisoners.
\nDressed in fear and exhaustion, no one any longer cared.
\nIt started in a faraway country, years before, when money
\nwas spent in wheelbarrows for a loaf of bread; when someone<\/span><\/p>\n

in a place signed his name in water; when a cigarette butt
\non a sidewalk was punishable death and conscription
\nIt started in a shirt pocket crowded with rats, in a bowl full
\nof glass eyes blinking in all directions in a field hospital.<\/span><\/p>\n

So the long muddled lines drudged into a dark forest
\nto a strange mumbled cadence-the belch of boots being sucked in
\nand out of mired miles-fifty thousand struggling vowels
\nand rifle reports the only consonants spoken over the dead<\/span><\/p>\n

guarding the ditches. Soon the forest turned blacker than
\nits wet pines. Fore weeks, the raw upturned earth burst
\ninto small blooms of brass buttons and bones. An entire country
\nstopped breathing. Each year the trees grew more bloated.<\/span><\/p>\n

A half century later, out of Katyn Forest miles of mud-caked
\nuniform march. At dust-choked crossroads villagers look for
\npassing cars. The sucking sound, the faint moans, only wind twisting
\nthrough the gargoyled and steepled churches. Couples stroll along<\/span><\/p>\n

rivers, watching their children run ahead. Cottonwoods sail
\ntheir leaves on the reddening current. The evening grows faint;
\nthe sun’s pulse weak on the water. The children shiver, listening
\nto stories of elves who return to retake the country the lost.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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“…this chapbook has the finish of a careful, longtime practitioner.\u00a0\u00a0At the Dead Center of Day<\/em>\u00a0is a carefully built arrangement of poems , a journey through some of the genuine abominations of the twentieth century-the agonies we withdraw from unless pressed to the task by someone like Bargen, who reminds us that we dare not forget.\u00a0\u00a0Most of these poems are not just staged shockers, but responsible, vivid holdings of the imagery of horror.\u00a0\u00a0They contain genuine feeling and each is a subtle, cautionary deliverance.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/span>\u201cBargen concludes his chapbook with an extraordinary work, \u201cThe Elves of Katyn Forest,\u201d\u00a0\u00a0which in essence delivers his final statement on the power of endurance in the face of contemporary horrors.\u00a0\u00a0The poem begins, \u201cIt started during the night after the burning of many cities.\u00a0\u00a0It started when the soldiers in uniforms the color of miles \/ of muddy road began the forced march of the defeated. \/ The mud of the vanquished and the mud of the victors \/ indistinguishable.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0With frightening precision Bargen has \u201cthe long muddled lines drudged into a dark forest \/to a strange mumbled cadence-the belch of boots being sucked in\/and out of mired miles-fifty thousand struggling vowels\/and rifle reports the only consonants spoken over the dead\/guarding the ditches.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0The entire country stops breathing. The trees become bloated.\u00a0\u00a0He concludes his poem:<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

A half century later, out of Katyn Forest miles of mud-caked<\/span><\/p>\n

Uniforms march.\u00a0\u00a0At dust-choked crossroads villagers look for<\/span><\/p>\n

Passing cars.\u00a0\u00a0The sucking sound, the faint moans, only wind twisting<\/span><\/p>\n

Through the gargoyled and steepled churches.\u00a0\u00a0Couples stroll along<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Rivers, watching their children run ahead.\u00a0\u00a0Cottonwoods sail<\/span><\/p>\n

Their leaves on the reddening current.\u00a0\u00a0The evening grows faint;<\/span><\/p>\n

The sun\u2019s pulse weal on the water.\u00a0\u00a0The children shiver, listening<\/span><\/p>\n

to stories of elves who return to retake the country they lost.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWalter Bargen says more about the hate and cruelty of our time in a<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0few lines than does all the exhibitionist stomping and bellowing of a\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

dozen slam group.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

-Paul Zimmer of\u00a0The<\/em>\u00a0Georgia Review<\/em>–
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

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BKMK Press–UMKC, 36 pages, 1997 $6.00 [reveal heading=”%image% Selection”] THE ELVES AT KATYN FOREST It started during the night after the burning of many cities. It started when the soldiers in uniforms the color of miles of muddy road began Continue reading At the Dead Center of Day<\/span>→<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=18"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":81,"href":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18\/revisions\/81"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=18"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=18"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.walterbargen.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=18"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}