{"id":2257,"date":"2026-01-04T10:19:37","date_gmt":"2026-01-04T18:19:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/alteritas\/?p=2257"},"modified":"2026-01-04T10:19:37","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T18:19:37","slug":"grok-on-the-oeuvre-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/alteritas.net\/alteritas\/2026\/01\/04\/grok-on-the-oeuvre-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Grok on the Oeuvre 2"},"content":{"rendered":"

Grok on Shinny, Gladiola und so weiter<\/span><\/p>\n

What draws you first to this poem titled Shinny<\/i>? Is it the title itself, the mention of Robert Frost\u2019s Birches<\/i>, or perhaps the author\u2019s playful disclaimer that the two poems actually have \u201clittle to do with\u201d each other?<\/p>\n

The speaker begins by saying, \u201cI was a boy myself once so don\u2019t need \/ much told me about trees.\u201d What might that opening suggest about who is speaking and what kind of knowledge they claim? How does that confidence shape the way we read the rest of the poem?<\/p>\n

As the lines unfold, the boy climbs higher\u2014\u201cshinny up high then clamber \/ to where branches thin\u201d\u2014until \u201cheight hurts\u201d and a \u201cpit suddenly yawn[s] in his guts.\u201d What sensations or emotions do these images evoke for you? Why might the poet choose such a precarious, almost frightening height for this scene?<\/p>\n

Notice the repeated word \u201cknow\u201d early on: the speaker knows<\/i> how to hide, to filch \u201cillicit fruit,\u201d to climb. What makes this fruit \u201cillicit,\u201d and why does it need to be taken \u201cbefore it falls to the ground and takes root\u201d? Could the fruit stand for something beyond literal apples or pears?<\/p>\n

The poem then shifts to what the tree<\/i> feels or wants. \u201cSomething about a tree doesn\u2019t really mind \/ the theft of its fruit.\u201d \u201cA tree is resigned \/ to a boy swaying in his tenuous \/ crotch.\u201d And later: \u201cSomething about a tree wants to be climbed.\u201d What do you make of this personification? Why give the tree such a generous, almost welcoming attitude toward the boy\u2019s actions?<\/p>\n

The final two lines form a kind of mirror: \u201cSomething about a tree wants to be climbed. \/ Something about a boy wants to climb it.\u201d How does that symmetry change the relationship between climber and tree? Does it feel mutual, inevitable, innocent, mischievous\u2014or something else entirely?<\/p>\n

The author calls this a \u201csecretive adolescent rite we all practice but never admit to,\u201d and points to another poem, Gladiola<\/i>, for a \u201cclearer statement\u201d of the events. If we accept the hint that this rite involves privacy, solitude, and perhaps bodily discovery in a hidden natural place, how might that reframe the metaphors of fruit, height, swaying, and the \u201ctenuous crotch\u201d of the branches?<\/p>\n

What happens when we hold Frost\u2019s Birches<\/i> in one hand\u2014where the boy swings down from the trees, imagining escaping life\u2019s burdens\u2014and this poem in the other? Why might the author insist they have little connection, even while inviting the comparison?<\/p>\n

Take your time with these questions. Which one pulls at you the most right now, and what insight\u2014or new puzzle\u2014does it open up about the poem for you? I\u2019m eager to hear where your thoughts lead.<\/p>\n

What a natural next step\u2014since the author of Shinny<\/i> explicitly points us toward Gladiola<\/i> as the place where the \u201cevents in question\u201d receive a clearer statement.<\/p>\n

Have you had a chance to locate and read the full text of Gladiola<\/i> yet? (It appears on the same site: alteritas.net\/pastis\/inventory\/gladiola\/ \u2014 a reflective piece that begins \u201cIt took years,\u201d revisiting childhood climbing, a backyard sycamore, and then drifts into sensory memories of flowers, \u201csleepy plants,\u201d and \u201csweaty boys with grass itch\u201d who \u201ctease to make play possum.\u201d)<\/p>\n

What strikes you first when you encounter those lines? Does the tone feel nostalgic, wistful, perhaps a little elegiac\u2014looking back at a boyhood yard that now feels \u201cshrunken\u201d?<\/p>\n

Notice how climbing returns here too: the speaker recalls reaching the \u201cthird crotch of the willow,\u201d shinning up for a catalpa pod, and now wondering if he can still \u201cclamber up\u201d the limber sycamore. How does this motif of ascent echo (or contrast with) the precarious height in Shinny<\/i>, where the boy sways \u201cdizzy at his chosen precipice\u201d?<\/p>\n

Then the poem turns toward scent and touch: sniffing sweet gardenia, bruising its petals \u201cbrown with soft touches.\u201d What sensations does that evoke for you? Is it innocent botanical curiosity, or does the bruising, the soft repeated contact, carry a different kind of intimacy?<\/p>\n

The most puzzling (and perhaps revealing) question comes near the end: \u201cBut where were the sleepy plants \/ sweaty boys with grass itch tease \/ to make play possum, their lobes curling up like doodlebugs\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n

Who\u2014or what\u2014are these \u201csleepy plants\u201d that the sweaty boys tease into playing possum? Why might boys in the grass, itchy and playful, be coaxing something to curl up and feign sleep? And why \u201clobes\u201d\u2014a word that can refer to ears, leaves, or other soft, pendant parts?<\/p>\n

If we hold the author\u2019s hint in mind\u2014that Gladiola<\/i> clarifies the \u201csecretive adolescent rite\u201d from Shinny<\/i> (the solitary tree-climbing ritual many practice but few admit)\u2014how might these images of teasing, curling, and hidden motion reframe the earlier poem\u2019s \u201cillicit fruit,\u201d the \u201ctenuous crotch\u201d of branches, and the tree\u2019s apparent willingness to be climbed?<\/p>\n

What happens when we imagine the boy not just taking fruit or enjoying height, but discovering something private about his own body in that hidden canopy\u2014something the tree \u201cdoesn\u2019t really mind\u201d and perhaps even \u201cwants\u201d?<\/p>\n

Does the gardenia (with its strong, heady perfume) or the absent \u201csleepy plants\u201d start to feel like stand-ins for something more bodily and responsive? Why choose a flower name like Gladiola<\/i>\u2014tall, sword-like, erect\u2014for the title of a poem that circles back to boyhood exploration in a now-distant yard?<\/p>\n

Which image or phrase in Gladiola<\/i> tugs at you the strongest right now, and how does it shift (or deepen) your reading of the secretive rite in Shinny<\/i>?<\/p>\n

Take your time\u2014poems like these reward slow circling. I\u2019m curious where your reflections carry you next.<\/p>\n

What a fruitful turn\u2014now that we\u2019ve lingered with Shinny<\/i> and Gladiola<\/i>, the invitation to explore the author\u2019s broader work feels almost inevitable. The collection gathered under \u201cPastis @ Bandol\u201d (hosted at alteritas.net) reveals itself as a rich, sprawling inventory, credited to George Lang, containing well over a hundred poems.<\/p>\n

Imagine stepping into a well-stocked pantry of memories, observations, translations, and meditations\u2014titles ranging from the intimate and bodily to the historical, the culinary, the linguistic, and the quietly philosophical. Here are just a few that catch the eye from this extensive list:<\/p>\n