Psychoanalysis: An Elegy
What are you thinking about?
I am thinking of an early summer.
I am thinking of wet hills in the rain
Pouring water. Shedding it
Down empty acres of oak and manzanita
Down to the old green brush tangled in the sun,
Greasewood, sage, and spring mustard.
Or the hot wind coming down from Santa Ana
Driving the hills crazy,
A fast wind with a bit of dust in it
Bruising everything and making the seed sweet.
Or down in the city where the peach trees
Are awkward as young horses,
And there are kites caught on the wires
Up above the street lamps,
And the storm drains are all choked with dead branches.
What are you thinking?
I think that I would like to write a poem that is slow as a summer
As slow getting started
As 4th of July somewhere around the middle of the second stanza
After a lot of unusual rain
California seems long in the summer.
I would like to write a poem as long as California
And as slow as a summer.
Do you get me, Doctor? It would have to be as slow
As the very tip of summer.
As slow as the summer seems
On a hot day drinking beer outside Riverside
Or standing in the middle of a white-hot road
Between Bakersfield and Hell
Waiting for Santa Claus.
What are you thinking now?
I’m thinking that she is very much like California.
When she is still her dress is like a roadmap. Highways
Traveling up and down her skin
Long empty highways
With the moon chasing jackrabbits across them
On hot summer nights.
I am thinking that her body could be California
And I a rich Eastern tourist
Lost somewhere between Hell and Texas
Looking at a map of a long, wet, dancing California
That I have never seen.
Send me some penny picture-postcards, lady,
Send them.
One of each breast photographed looking
Like curious national monuments,
One of your body sweeping like a three-lane highway
Twenty-seven miles from a night’s lodging
In the world’s oldest hotel.
What are you thinking?
I am thinking of how many times this poem
Will be repeated. How many summers
Will torture California
Until the damned maps burn
Until the mad cartographer
Falls to the ground and possesses
The sweet thick earth from which he has been hiding.
What are you thinking now?
I am thinking that a poem could go on forever.
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PROMPT: Write an analysis of the poem,"Psychoanalysis: An Elegy," written by Jack Spicer.
ChatGPT:
Jack Spicer’s poem "Psychoanalysis: An Elegy" is a meandering contemplation of California summers, desire, and the potential for infinite poetry. The poem is structured around a dialogue with an imagined psychoanalyst, with each question prompting a new reflection or observation.
The opening stanza sets the scene with vivid imagery of wet hills and green brush, describing the natural beauty of California. The second stanza introduces the desire to write a slow poem, “as slow as a summer,” which seems to be an attempt to capture the essence of the state’s unique climate and atmosphere. This desire for slowness is repeated in the following lines, and there is a sense that the speaker wants to hold on to the summer, to prevent it from slipping away too quickly.
The poem takes a turn in the third stanza, where the speaker shifts to thinking about a woman who is “very much like California.” The woman’s body is described in terms of highways and landscapes, suggesting a desire to explore and discover. The tone becomes more sensual and even slightly voyeuristic as the speaker asks for “penny picture-postcards” of the woman’s body.
The final two stanzas return to the idea of infinite poetry, with the speaker imagining the poem being repeated and rewritten indefinitely. The last line, “I am thinking that a poem could go on forever,” is a reflection on the limitless potential of language and the creative process.
Overall, "Psychoanalysis: An Elegy" is a complex and layered poem that explores themes of desire, nostalgia, and the infinite possibilities of poetry. The structure of the poem, with its series of questions and answers, creates a sense of intimacy and introspection that draws the reader in and invites them to contemplate their own relationship to the natural world and to the creative process.
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