So many kinds of echoes in the world. It’s no wonder the story of Echo and Narcissus has lasted so long. We humans have more than one archetypal resonance with that word. I can almost hear it echoing through my unconcious sending out uncanny vibrations that contract pores, cause hair to stand on end.
I mentioned in my previous post that echo is an idea I’ve played with before. I also referenced my book The Naked Man. So today, on Open Link night at the d’Verse Poets Pub, I’m responding to host Grace by posting a poem that deals with both the shadowy underworld in which every player is thought to be an echo of some aspect of ourselves, and also incorporates the idea that everyone has an exact double somewhere in the world. The name for that eerie twin is so onomatopoetically perfect in German we have imported it directly into English. I used it as the title to one of the poems in my book.
The Naked Man hunts shadows
in the forest, chasing down rumors
overturning rocks. Today he found one
hiding in the honeysuckle, pulled it out
and named it Cynic; dressed the thing
in torn jeans, shaved its head
and gave it a southern accent.
He’s building his shadow a shady cage
in the corner of the parking lot-
makes a nice change from that other one Romantic
chained to a tie-dyed tent beside the riverside.
Perhaps he’ll put his shadows side by side
in a makeshift corral made of boulders and manzanita
let them duke it out with fisticuffs to see who wins.