In the Beginning

[RiverNotch]

six stanzas for six days, only I would argue creation actually proceeded in seven -- at least, in terms of the [priestly] text. that is to say, treating the creation of man[kind] as its own stanza.
In the beginning, there was construction paper.
The children said, let us cut it into shapes: creation as division
triangles for alligator teeth,
ovals for panda tongues,
rectangles for orangutan feet. inversion: instead of starting with light, starting with animals. could maybe play with modern scholarship's idea of the creation narrative coming from Mesopotamian sources, ie the gods prevailing over chaos: as in, choose less innocuous imagery than "panda" or "orangutan".

Color and water seeped into the paper,
while the crafter's sand remained
on the surface. another inversion: earth above water, earth preceding water, and instead of water divided by a firmament, a firmament essentially dissolving due to water. crafter's sand, though? or maybe sandcrafters? otherwise, it's too obtuse.

There were sequins, buttons, third day was earth, fourth day was stars ---
pom poms and pipe cleaners--
all separated from each other --- but with this list and organization (i don't think separation is the right word here) this section more recalls J (and whatsoever Adam called every living creature), the author strongly deviates from the original.
according to size and hue. no way kids would do that. a kid, maybe, but kids?
And the children longed
to end their loneliness,
the disconnection between elements. between elements? as much as i like allegorical whatever, suddenly defining the children as the elements feels like too much of a draw away from the imagery.

So, the children said, let there be glue,
enough to cover the whole earth.
We will join the trees–- third day was earth -- alright, fair return.
paper shapes to table, cabinets,
floor, and baseboard. It is not good again with the recollection of J, though because it's tied to a proper day, it feels more natural. still, i would rather the allusions to chapter two be neutered here, by, perhaps, replacing the list with something drier.
for them to be alone.

And we will bind humans together into one:
hand to hair, fingertip to palm--sticky
like us. One likeness for each child. the interesting thing is that chapter one's narrative doesn't talk about sex in the same way as chapter two's narrative at all: sex is just a part of us, man is made naturally hermaphroditic (male and female created he them). at the same time, "one likeness for each child" breaks with the poem's goal of a sort of return-to-innocence-reunification, since deviating from that line in the Bible deviates from its original, anti-discriminatory note: as in, since we were all made after God's own likeness, we are all equal. although perhaps the author believes in the dictum of the Dean in Brand: that organized (ie, Priestly) religion's goal is to keep everyone equal, but not necessarily free. but returning to the first sentence of this paragraph, that break into the narrative of chapter two isn't very organic, as I'm still missing either day two (firmament) or day five (fish and foul): the un-division here doesn't really address the problem, since division is the very essence of every single creation act.


Then they said, let us cover our creations
in glitter. They saw that it was good,
and reveled in their creations without rest. back to the jubilees, and a bunch of kids not Sabbathing (then again, for of such is the kingdom of heaven, and all those fun healings in St. John). good ending, good poem, but overall could be subtler.