I have heard Scott Miller read several times and I have been struck by the growth his work has shown over the last few years. Recently he completed the MFA program at Antioch University. Scott is also a mathematician by training and holds a degree from MIT. Perhaps his background in math helps explain his need for neat, stately poems—which, I hasten to add, are also full of dignified emotion (listen to him read!). Thus perhaps for the first time in the history of poetry someone—I mean Scott—has rhymed the word Allah with the word bra. (Luckily he does not live in Saudi Arabia or Iran.) Scott writes in a variety of styles and voices—who knows what he’ll unveil, so to speak, today, but I know it will be interesting and I know that he will read it passionately. Scott is young, and who knows how he’ll develop in the future, but it’s certain that he’s off to a good start.
Nobility
I marvel at the nobility
of the lone wolf at hunt:
grey chops washed red like
some archaic tribal rite
like a mockery of lipstick.
What steals that laurel
off the rifleman’s head:
cocksure, clad in fur cap,
plaid, clapping red hands
like some wolf’s chops?
§
The Dress, Revealed (excerpt from Aurora's Dress)
The folds of crimson form a terrace-slope
from solar plexus, flaring at the waist;
petals of silk uncoil, interlope
and undermine each other, interlaced
with hidden stitches. Slit above the knee,
it clings to modesty with slight success
and compensates the plummet of its V-
shaped neck with a more than generous
helping of fabric. Ideal for cocktails,
benefit galas, opera: apropos
of any season. When the wind prevails
upon it, the tail is wont to lift and blow
streaming behind like the banner of Allah.
Thin straps and lack of back preclude a bra.
I marvel at the nobility
of the lone wolf at hunt:
grey chops washed red like
some archaic tribal rite
like a mockery of lipstick.
What steals that laurel
off the rifleman’s head:
cocksure, clad in fur cap,
plaid, clapping red hands
like some wolf’s chops?
§
The Dress, Revealed (excerpt from Aurora's Dress)
The folds of crimson form a terrace-slope
from solar plexus, flaring at the waist;
petals of silk uncoil, interlope
and undermine each other, interlaced
with hidden stitches. Slit above the knee,
it clings to modesty with slight success
and compensates the plummet of its V-
shaped neck with a more than generous
helping of fabric. Ideal for cocktails,
benefit galas, opera: apropos
of any season. When the wind prevails
upon it, the tail is wont to lift and blow
streaming behind like the banner of Allah.
Thin straps and lack of back preclude a bra.
© 2011
Scott Miller
Scott Miller was a Featured Poet who read his poetry at the February 2011 Second Sunday Poetry Series
Scott Miller was a Featured Poet who read his poetry at the February 2011 Second Sunday Poetry Series