“Here; just stick the end of this hose in yer muzzle—guzzle
the cold ones we’ll pour down the funnel … GUZZLE! GUZZLE!”
Our clunkers squat in St. Greg’s parking lot; there is Chuck’s
pride, his sixty-six gold Impala—a bad gas guzzler. “GUZZ–LE!”
In the sacristy, Fr. Ellis, trembling, twists open the communion wine
and hears the choirs of seraphim chanting, “Gu–ZZLE! Gu–ZZLE!”
Down the block, Mr. Mancini, old soldier of Mussolini, makes bitter
wine in his garage, and, trying to ease his ancient troubles, guzzles.
Out on the sun-blessed and -blasted savannah, after a rain, it’s time
to celebrate; around a cool oasis, the assembled gazelles guzzle.
A man and a woman and a blackbird / are one, O Wallace of
Hartford, if they, in their thirst, from one shared nozzle guzzle.
Paolo says an expanding spiral of beer will soon consume the
world; so it must be, if all entities that want a buzz’ll guzzle.
There’s a spark, entangled with all the stars in the Milky Way, in
each of us—stardust that, one day, our expanding sun’ll guzzle.
Sure as the beer drips, we’re consumed from within;
I hear the bacteria chanting “Guzz–LLE! Guzz–LLE!
I thought it was an ugly way to name a form that sweetly flows
like nectar; but I’m learning to love the words guzzle, ghazal.
The night was cold and the beer was colder. All around, all
the thirsty crew were chanting: “GU–ZZLE! GU–ZZLE!”
Thinking back, I almost need a drink, for I face a guzzle puzzle—
Do I have the brain cells left to write a “guzzle” ghazal?
Now grow up, Brian, and cease your childish “guzzle, guzzle”—
Sublimate! Transform! and make your guzzle ghazal.
by Brian O’Sullivan
—from Rattle #84, Summer 2024
Tribute to the Ghazal
Brian O’Sullivan: “I love the challenge of having each couplet work independently and in contrast to the others but still somehow attempting to give the ghazal as a whole a sense of composition and movement. (Getting feedback on Rattle’s Critique of the Week helped a lot with this.) However, what really resonated with me was hearing Karan Kapoor and Pamela Mann, on The Poetry Space_, discuss how ghazals give poets license to be irreverent, as we might in bawdy ballads or drinking songs, even while also making space for panoramic visions. I don’t know whether or not featuring beer being guzzled through a funnel is a little too irreverent—but if you’re reading this in Rattle, maybe it turned out to be just irreverent enough.” (web)
