Ephram Pratt Ignores a Cacophony of Silence
Ephram Pratt Ignores a Cacophony of Silence
by Jack E. Lorts
Intangible as a rock,
the work stands
enormous but silent,
like elk song
wading alive into
unearthly voices,
relentlessly irreverent
and ignoring
the talisman found
along the road.
Why doesn’t he ask
the questions
intoned in ancient
scriptures?
Weren’t there victories
enough before
arrogant shackaleers
invaded the landing
and tore blue shells
of irradiated time
from balloon trousers,
elegant in their
white cacophony,
renting the night air?
ca·coph·o·ny
   [kuh-kof-uh-nee]
noun, plural ca·coph·o·nies.
1.
harsh discordance of sound; dissonance: a cacophony of hoots, cackles, and wails.
2.
a discordant and meaningless mixture of sounds: the cacophony produced by city traffic at midday.
Gotta love that title! I thought at first the character mentioned, Ephram Pratt might be someone of contemporary or historic importance but found nothing in my searches…a sort of ‘Walter Mitty’ or fictional persona. I’ve noticed a lot of people resurrecting the couplet in writing here of late. Perhaps it never went away. Nice structure! The tone and language gives a deep impression, to me, of failure in a contradictive world. mmm. My favorite line was: “Weren’t there victories enough before arrogant shackaleers invaded the landing
and tore blue shells of irradiated time from balloon trousers, elegant in their white cacophony, renting the night air?” I love it when a poem asks a question and can continue a word count beyond the 5-6 soundbite that so many ‘word economists’ strive for–give me a mouthful, a mindful, a long flabbergasted rant anyday!
thx for sharing!