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Saint Sebastianus

Sebastianus, soldier, pinioned, bleeding,
Stands at his lonely and forgotten post
Unperceived—no, even unsuspected—
By the diseased and ulcerated world.

Stomachs swollen with dyspeptic lust,
Crisscrossing arrows of sharp competition,
The noise and energy of the inane—
All pass by him without a nod or glance.

But Sebastianus stands and hangs,
A transfixed, wounded, ever-loyal sentry—
The mute irony of his smile suggests
Only a dying soldier’s final dream.

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Saint Fiacre Among the Roses

The earth is turned here by a careful gardener
Spading the borders in his humble image.

How many years have you spent digging here,
Turning the leaves beneath the rotted leaves
In a walled and self-consuming garden?
Your grade is symmetry, your blessing stone,
Wistfully thinking taut cord stretched in rows
Will serve to humanize the hybrid roses.

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To Those Who Want “Something Higher”

The earnest, grim solicitude of some
Hawk-hovers over this ambiguous world—
Swoops to excise, with cathartic talons,
Flaws in our mundane, smudged, unclean reflection,
As if a function of this opaque earth
Were to whore for Plato’s misconceptions.

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Wake and Funeral

Flowers and cards, addresses, signatures,
Rustling of crepe nearby the votive candles—
Props in a tableau of formaldehyde.
The half-known cousin and a kindly priest
Speak in whispers, lend their patient ears
In the black hush of a rented limousine.
At graveside someone leans towards you and whispers
What grows from this? What hoped-for spring is born?

And answers a dissembler in your midst:
Flesh is fertile in the clay-dumb earth—
Stones are unlit beacons over shrines.
For the heart’s quiet, cling to this cold mask.

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The Tattooed Sailor

He who lay like streaks of rose and cream
Naked in youth, in the sweet wet green
Grass of home fields, now sails a troubled sea,
While stigmatic on his arms and chest
Are pierced tattoos of knowing and of weeping—
Swept into the flood of human history.

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An Explanatory Note

These are really five diagnostic poems of near-despair. Each in its own way speaks of failure or at least some kind of futility. The narrative voice takes notice of a missed chance, a blighted hope, a skeptical turn of mind, or a loss of faith. I have tried to make all of them beautiful in language, while coldly stark in meaning.

“Saint Sebastianus” presents a crucified or wounded soldier-sentry, ignored or forgotten by a hopelessly corrupt world. “Saint Fiacre” is about a constricted life spent in self-sequestered obsession with some chosen activity. The “Something Higher” poem expresses a weary contempt for aspirations that go beyond mundane limits. “Wake and Funeral” is about the inability to see any meaning in either life or death, while the “Sailor” poem alludes to the inevitable loss of innocence that any worldly activity or experience will bring about.

Are these the poems of an atheist or agnostic? No. They are simply attempts to place oneself into the mindset and psychological state of the unbeliever who must face existence with no supernatural supports or metaphysical grounding.

I chose Saint Sebastianus because his martyrdom by arrows is well known, and his depiction as a “pinioned” and “transfixed” figure parallels the crucifixion in its imagery. The crucifixion of Sebastianus promises no hope of resurrection—just oblivion. I chose Saint Fiacre because he is the patron saint of gardeners. Small statues of Saint Fiacre were common in medieval gardens.

Do I share the opinions expressed in these poems? Only the anti-Platonism of the third piece, since I have an instinctive loathing of ideology and idealism and the horrors that they impose upon existence. Platonists view existence as a kind of scandal that has to be eliminated or corrected, in accord with the demands of mentally constructed abstractions. They are the ones who are always jawboning about “Something Higher.” Incarnational Christianity used to keep Platonism in check, but today there is a savage and concerted attempt to subvert even Catholicism (the one truly incarnational Christian faith) into a collection of “ideals.” The five poems mourn the consequences of this spreading corruption, beyond even the borders of Catholicism.

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Joseph S. Salemi has published five books of poetry, and his poems, translations and scholarly articles have appeared in over one hundred publications world-wide.  He is the editor of the literary magazine TRINACRIA and writes for Expansive Poetry On-line. He teaches in the Department of Humanities at New York University and in the Department of Classical Languages at Hunter College.

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The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary.


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19 Responses

  1. Christina Lesinski

    To say I “enjoyed” these poems would be a bit of a misuse of words due to the “stark” content, as you put it, Mr. Salemi. But in a sense, I did enjoy them because I appreciated the uniqueness of structures, the beauty of language, and that there was an overarching theme noticeable even before reading the additional notes. I can relate to the feeling of hopelessness and grim perspective of the world that is sometimes a result of how hectic things are going. To me, these poems reflect how I imagine an atheist or agnostic would feel about life without God. Your line in “Wake and Funeral” about flesh being fertile stood out to me as a reference to life after death, I’m not sure if that’s how it was intended.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      The words about flesh being fertile in the earth are spoken by “a dissembler,” meaning someone the speaker distrusts or disbelieves. The dissembler is saying that all that happens to corpses is that they are returned to their natural elements, just as any buried organic matter becomes fertilizer. The gravestones are “unlit beacons” that give no light (that is, no hope and no promise). In his view, this particular way of looking at things is a “cold mask,” but has the advantage of clearing away all illusions that trouble the human heart with vain expectations. Yes, this an atheist or agnostic stance.

      Thank you for your comments, Christina.

      Reply
      • Julian D. Woodruff

        To generalize dangerously, the choice of atheism professes the joy, or at least the freedom of clarity, but projects cold impatience / annoyance / anger / contempt, a sneer of cold command: “off with your rose-colored glasses!”

      • Joseph S. Salemi

        The atheist-agnostic might well take that attitude towards himself, much as an ancient Stoic steeled himself against any emotional reaction or false hope. And that would be his business alone, not anyone else’s.

        But when he projects it onto others by insisting that they too accept his viewpoints, then he has become just another tedious ideologist who wants to “save the world.”

        The speaker in these poems does not do that. If he did, he’d be one of those persons mocked in the third poem, who want “Something Higher.”

  2. Margaret Coats

    Coldly stark in meaning. Joseph, you have continually called meaning one of the miseries! I think I see what you mean, but I would like to see the word “Saint” in line 9 with “Sebastianus” to ease his meter. If that is wanting something higher, I claim it as an incarnational realist. The poems are as corrupt as you could wish, but I can’t say that the snarky speaking voice seems mournful, except perhaps in “The Tattooed Sailor.” Inclined to despair in all of them, yes.

    Reply
  3. Joseph S. Salemi

    Line 9 in that poem is deliberately trochaic, to add a harshness and intensity to what is expressed:

    BUT Se BAST i AN us STANDS and HANGS

    In my view, “meaning” becomes one of the three miseries when it is presented as something that the words of the poem carry, as a wagon carries a load of hay. That idea reduces a poem’s language to vehicular status.

    I can’t see the poems as snarky or corrupt. They simply present a view of existence that is non-idealistic and devoid of hype.

    Reply
    • Julian D. Woodruff

      Joseph, I get your point about the effect of trochees in “but Sebastianus …,” but I’m uncertain on your rebuttal on meaning. Is it a case of discriminating between tone and specifics (too much emphasis on which can wreck a piece)–I’m reminded here of a line of Lessing’s, “Wir ermahnen, streiten, lehren”– or am I misreading you?

      Reply
      • Joseph S. Salemi

        When we warn and lecture and teach we are walking a fine line in poetry. It’s the old distinction between “showing” and “telling.” Young , inexperienced, naive, and ideologically committed poets are always trying to TELL the reader things, with the kind of wide-eyed earnestness that wants to save the world or “make a difference.” It’s amateurish and boring.

        The experienced poet, when not writing direct satire or polemical verse, creates artifacts of language that are beautiful in themselves, and which if they also present a point or an opinion do so indirectly and by suggestion. His poem is a work of art in itself, and not a handmaiden serving someone’s faith or ideology.

        That was my basic point. The miseries of “meaning, message, and moral” are only miseries when they dominate a poem at the expense of its aesthetic primacy.

  4. Daniel Kemper

    There’s an embarrassment of riches for commentary here. Like the proverbial mosquito at the nudist colony, I’m not sure where to start.

    I’ll start with the trochaic line. A fascinating effect, if you think of it slightly differently is that removing the *Saint* staggers/reverses/crumbles/corrupts/stumbles the line. Or maybe say it this way, with the *Saint* it is soft, without the *Saint* it is harsh. Anyway, just a quick, playful thought.

    I’d also like to comment on the young, wide-eyed poet… They’re all so *sincere* (to riff on Wilde).

    Something here touched on is a topic very close to my heart, let me focus on it this way, regarding showing vs. telling. Meter and structure/form can be an integral part of the showing, as the trochaic line shows. It is not leveraged for the showing nearly as much as the content (and basically, not at all to three standard deviations of free verse, IMO.)

    The trochaic line shows with great poignancy, the great potential.

    OK, one last item for now. I notice an oscillation of themes: piercing imagery with fertility/flower imagery as one proceeds poem to poem. Was that deliberate, or a natural organic outgrowth of the topics under consideration?

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      The poems were all composed at different times in the 1970s. I placed them together for this submission to the SCP because they seemed on reflection to share a certain outlook on suffering death, skepticism, and above all, flesh.

      Thank you for your perceptive comments.

      Reply
  5. Brian A. Yapko

    “Saint Sebastianus” is rendered in blank verse (all of these poems, in fact) with thoughts that focuses on the external rather than the internal, and expressed through language that is harsh! “A diseased and ulcerated world” describes a sick society which might as well be today. What’s fascinating about this poem, Joe, is that you do not get into this saint’s head and you do not even judge those who stabbed this man. Your focus is on an uncaring world of passers-by and the ignorant who let the death of this ever-loyal sentry go unnoticed. A happier poem might say that God, at least, sees the martyrdom… but this is not a happy poem and, as you explain in your notes, that transcendence is not possible in this bleak poetic world. It is harshly materialistic and does not brook a spiritual component which might make the pain tolerable and noble. The dying soldier’s “final dream” is the closest we get to what might otherwise be a call to hope. And even that is purely conjecture.

    “Saint Sebatianus” gives us a key to the remaining poems in this suite: a harshly materialistic view of life divorced from spirituality. “Saint Fiacre” is ruled by symmetry and appearance – perhaps even a slight tendency towards being OCD.

    “Something Higher” is bleak yet does not focus on the material so much as which it means to see the world through the prism of the Platonic Ideal rather than as the world truly is. It is truly philosophical – or rather the criticism of a particular philosophy – presented in material terms. Your explanatory note describes this as reflecting your loathing of ideology – a loathing we share. I wonder what such a poetic critique would look like now in view of all you’ve seen and experienced since this original poem was written? In other words, this is a poem that leaves me wanting more.

    “Wake and Funeral” is troubling in its completely aspiritual view of death. It’s not quite a coroner’s report, but its sense of detachment from the mystery of death is notable. I love the language of this poem, however, which is extremely specific – the formaldehyde, the rented limousine. But what is especially powerful to me is the “dissembler” who speaks of the “clay-dumb earth.” Clay, here, is not a throwaway word but carries many religious connotations, most notably the creation of Adam and the image of God and what it means to be clay in the hands of the Potter – all made bleak by a sadly atheist viewpoint. It’s rather nihilistic.

    The Tattooed Sailor is in some ways the saddest poem of the grouping. It speaks of the corrosion life may inevitably cause to one who starts out innocent and ends up with the scars of living, scars shared by all participants in human history. It’s wonderful and depressing and economically offers deep insight of universal experience.

    This is not a happy set of poems, Joe, but as a suite they capture something human and real. And speaking as someone who once flirted with both atheism and agnosticism during years of reckless arrogance and despair, they remind me how grateful I am that I found something infinitely better. Or, rather, that I was found.

    Reply
  6. Joseph S. Salemi

    Brian, I feel as if I really spoke to you in these old poems, and certainly your comments spoke straight to me, revealing that I had indeed managed to touch a reader.

    Personal items: The parish where I was born and baptized was that of Saint Sebastian, in Woodside. In addition, one of my middle names is Sebastian. One of my favorite literary noms de plume is “Sebastian Melmoth,” used by Oscar Wilde after his 1895 catastrophe. And the image of the handsome young soldier, naked and pierced with arrows, is one of the most beautiful images in Western art — an image that countless artists have been tempted to visualize. Also, your wonderful poem “Miles Fidelis” was echoing in my mind when I put these five poems together for the SCP.

    Yes, these are all written against the backdrop of a de-spiritualized world, something which today is alluded to when persons speak of the “post-Christian West.” Back in the 1970s this was not as immediately apparent as it is now, but I sensed it very powerfully even then.

    And I say this now: if these small poems have any value at all, it is this: they suggest that even a de-spiritualized world cannot escape the ghostly presence of its rejected religion, most especially in the inescapable phenomena of death, suffering, loss, emptiness, skepticism, fleshly torment, and the demonic curse of ideology. Even atheists and agnostics live under the shadow of the Cross.

    Reply
  7. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    The beauty of this site is the distinctness and range of the poets and their works together with the generosity of readers who are passionate about what they have read and are keen to discuss the contents. From this, I have learned much.

    Joe, your magnificently wrought poems speak to me too. I cannot add anything to Brian’s astute and informative observations, and I agree with every one of them, but what I will say is this – these words of yours explain so much:

    The miseries of “meaning, message, and moral” are only miseries when they dominate a poem at the expense of its aesthetic primacy.

    From my second poem published on this site back in 2019, I have been explaining what, how, and why… all because zealous readers with an agenda have been concentrating on the miseries of meaning, message, and moral instead of my poetry’s “aesthetic primacy.” Your words validate my work. Joe, I am always drawn to your poetry. It is a masterclass in how to… regardless of the opinions of those who put their own ideologies above the beauty of the fictive artifact.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Susan, thank you. Your poetry, right from the first day I saw it, has always been in a class by itself. At first I thought to myself, “It’s her English training.” But as time passed I realized that it was much more than just that. You had a REAL GIFT. And this gift endows you with a facility in language and idiom that is unique and precious. Whatever you write is a fictive artifact, and it has the polish and professionalism that are unmistakable signs of a true poet.

      We are proud to have you here in America.

      Reply
      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        And I am proud to be here. Thank you very much indeed!

  8. Adam Sedia

    Normally I loathe explanatory notes — like when the composer of a new work gets up on stage and blathers about the analysis of the piece. Just let us try to enjoy it! By contrast, I did find your note helpful, and it helped me rethink what I read in a different light.

    Before reading the note, I did sense the overwhelming despair in all the poems, and the wide variety of subjects highlights the common humanity they share. It also makes us recognize the humanity of the saints we revere. Reading these was like enjoying the flavors of a nice, expensive scotch.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Many thanks Adam. I only add explanatory notes to my poems here at the SCP, because we are an important educational site for young persons who may have little experience with poetry.

      Reply
  9. C.B. Anderson

    These are beyond me, I confess. The poems look too much like literature, a delicacy I find hard to digest. It’s my fault, not yours, because I lack the necessary enzymes.

    Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      Kip, they’re all from the late 1960s and early 1970s, when I was still essentially a kid. I was deeply under the influence of Eliotic modernism at that time. I think that today my poetry is much clearer and more explicit. I learned a lot as the years went by.

      Reply

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