Alan Harnum
Robert Graves Explains the John Wick Movies to Me
If all true poets are madmen,
goddess-touched,
then let me sing of John Wick, a poet
of violence like unto Achilles.
(Rob, you can't say things
like that in 2017,
use madpeople at least)
If you say he is no poet, ken
how he writes with auto-
matic pistol, how he yanks
a bodyguard by his hair to a
taut bow-string and blooms a
flower from his head. If
you think violence has no poetry,
then you must learn more
about poetry!
(Rob, what about the nickname
the Russians have for him?)
Even Christianized, the
Slavs maintain a special affinity
to the old paganism; Baba Yaga,
the pestle-wielding hag
they made of one aspect of the
Great Goddess, is but a part
of this. To call him Baba Yaga
is a term of respect and awe,
mistranslated for English viewers
as the childish "boogeyman".
(Why do the Russians vanish
after the prologue of Chapter
Two, Rob?)
In the second film, Wick
leaves behind the
paganism that the Slavs
represent, enters the
Constantine-made world;
consider the question
of Julius in Rome and
consider his name, or,
consider what Winston says to
Santino, whose name
means "little saint",
about stabbing the devil in
the back.
(Is John a ghost, Rob?)
Everyone who speaks is a
ghost in John Wick;
consider the last fight
between John and Cassian,
with their silenced pistols
and subway brawl that
seems to barely discomfort the
riders. There are worlds
and worlds alongside ours,
and one of them is the
world of ghosts.
(Rob, what does it mean that
John kills Ares in Chapter Two,
but let Perkins live in Chapter
One?)
As I said above, they have
Christianized John for
the second film, he has moved,
like our culture, away
from the Great Mother's majesty;
see how he spares knife-hearted
saint-named Cassian, but kills the
muted Morrigan they mar with a
bloody-handed war-god's name. But,
note how she signs "be seeing
you" to John; all this has
gone before and will go
again, after all.
(What about John's wife,
Rob?)
Her name was Helen, of the
thousand-launched ships and
Ilium burnt ash; what more need I
say of that matter?
(Did you like the movies,
Rob?)
From my seat at the table of
ghosts I see in your culture
a desperate last firing of
the logos' phallic solar gun
thrust at the red-rising moon;
look how Gianna, her name
same-rooted with John's, cuts
her wrists in her bath
like an empress, and how
Wick pointlessly pumps his
bullet to her brow. Even his
surname evokes a candle,
going out. I can't wait to see
what Chapter Three brings!
If all true poets are madmen,
goddess-touched,
then let me sing of John Wick, a poet
of violence like unto Achilles.
(Rob, you can't say things
like that in 2017,
use madpeople at least)
If you say he is no poet, ken
how he writes with auto-
matic pistol, how he yanks
a bodyguard by his hair to a
taut bow-string and blooms a
flower from his head. If
you think violence has no poetry,
then you must learn more
about poetry!
(Rob, what about the nickname
the Russians have for him?)
Even Christianized, the
Slavs maintain a special affinity
to the old paganism; Baba Yaga,
the pestle-wielding hag
they made of one aspect of the
Great Goddess, is but a part
of this. To call him Baba Yaga
is a term of respect and awe,
mistranslated for English viewers
as the childish "boogeyman".
(Why do the Russians vanish
after the prologue of Chapter
Two, Rob?)
In the second film, Wick
leaves behind the
paganism that the Slavs
represent, enters the
Constantine-made world;
consider the question
of Julius in Rome and
consider his name, or,
consider what Winston says to
Santino, whose name
means "little saint",
about stabbing the devil in
the back.
(Is John a ghost, Rob?)
Everyone who speaks is a
ghost in John Wick;
consider the last fight
between John and Cassian,
with their silenced pistols
and subway brawl that
seems to barely discomfort the
riders. There are worlds
and worlds alongside ours,
and one of them is the
world of ghosts.
(Rob, what does it mean that
John kills Ares in Chapter Two,
but let Perkins live in Chapter
One?)
As I said above, they have
Christianized John for
the second film, he has moved,
like our culture, away
from the Great Mother's majesty;
see how he spares knife-hearted
saint-named Cassian, but kills the
muted Morrigan they mar with a
bloody-handed war-god's name. But,
note how she signs "be seeing
you" to John; all this has
gone before and will go
again, after all.
(What about John's wife,
Rob?)
Her name was Helen, of the
thousand-launched ships and
Ilium burnt ash; what more need I
say of that matter?
(Did you like the movies,
Rob?)
From my seat at the table of
ghosts I see in your culture
a desperate last firing of
the logos' phallic solar gun
thrust at the red-rising moon;
look how Gianna, her name
same-rooted with John's, cuts
her wrists in her bath
like an empress, and how
Wick pointlessly pumps his
bullet to her brow. Even his
surname evokes a candle,
going out. I can't wait to see
what Chapter Three brings!
A World War One Poet Responds to Wonder Woman
For us, no war-killing sword, no
woman with the sun on her back to
glory the mud and shell, no
golden rope to true our bones;
Once, I saw a trench-mate raise
his wrist to block a rifle's bark.
The bullet spun him, danced him,
his hand flown free like a crow.
For us, no gods, or angels either,
whatever the parish news said.
O cruel future, to force a
goddess back through time and
seed the emptied earth of
our graves with her epiphany
For us, no war-killing sword, no
woman with the sun on her back to
glory the mud and shell, no
golden rope to true our bones;
Once, I saw a trench-mate raise
his wrist to block a rifle's bark.
The bullet spun him, danced him,
his hand flown free like a crow.
For us, no gods, or angels either,
whatever the parish news said.
O cruel future, to force a
goddess back through time and
seed the emptied earth of
our graves with her epiphany
Alan Harnum lives in Toronto, Canada and has a day job writing software and a night job writing poems (also sometimes software to help write poems, though not these ones); his found poetry based on library digital archive materials has been published in Unlost Journal. Teenage exposure to fanfiction created a permanent interest in how people engage emotionally and artistically with pop culture.