Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Michael McClure’s "Bud" is a compact yet richly evocative meditation on disillusionment, instinct, and the strange tension between innocence and experience. The poem oscillates between imagery of conflict and natural inevitability, contrasting the hardened world of human struggle with the intuitive navigation of the natural world. As in much of McClure’s work, there is a blend of biological awareness, political critique, and moments of unexpected transcendence.

The opening—"HEARTACHE NEWS WITH THE TORTURED FACES and grim boredom verging on insolence, and a rifle slung over the shoulders."—immediately situates the poem in a space of wariness and exhaustion. Heartache news suggests media saturated with suffering, while tortured faces conveys the emotional and physical toll of whatever unseen conflict is being reported. The phrase grim boredom verging on insolence captures a deep cynicism, as if those experiencing or witnessing this struggle have grown numb, their discontent teetering on outright defiance. The rifle slung over the shoulders completes the image of a world where violence is ever-present, habitual, something worn as casually as a coat.

A shift occurs as the poem turns toward language itself—"Lines of meaningless glyphs slither past beneath a band of silver ON BLACK." This could refer to scrolling news text on a screen or ticker, but it also suggests a deeper critique of communication. The glyphs—symbols meant to convey meaning—are meaningless, hinting at a breakdown of understanding. The band of silver on black could be a literal description of the glowing letters on a screen or newspaper, but it also carries connotations of something artificial, metallic, lacking warmth. There is a sense that language has lost its power, that words, no matter how dire the subject matter, are reduced to an empty procession.

Then, another contrast—"THE SALMON MUST KNOW how to find its stream, and the absence of thorns I S the absence of odor." These lines introduce the natural world, a realm where instincts remain intact. The salmon, guided by an ancient biological imperative, does not struggle with meaninglessness—it knows how to find its way home. This contrasts sharply with the earlier depiction of human confusion and disaffection. There is an implicit lament here: while the natural world follows patterns of survival and renewal, humanity has drifted from its deeper instincts.

The assertion—"the absence of thorns I S the absence of odor."—suggests that loss of difficulty, of sharpness, results in a loss of depth or presence. A rose without thorns, for example, lacks its defining resistance, and in turn, loses its scent. This could be read as a commentary on both nature and human experience—without struggle, something essential is diminished.

The next phrase—"Perfume the color of pink-tinted pewter."—introduces a paradoxical image. Perfume, usually associated with scent, is given a color, and not just any color, but pink-tinted pewter. Pewter, a dull gray metal, does not naturally lend itself to vibrancy, but here it is tinged with pink, a hint of warmth amid coldness. This image encapsulates the poem’s overall mood—a world that is both metallic and muted, yet still clinging to a trace of beauty.

Finally, the poem closes with—"C H I L D R E N smile in the bodies of grownups. A H !"—a haunting statement about the persistence of innocence, or perhaps its imprisonment. The spacing of C H I L D R E N stretches the word, emphasizing it visually, as if it is being pulled across time, across lives. The idea of children smiling in the bodies of grownups suggests a duality—either that innocence still lingers within those hardened by life, or that adults are merely playing at maturity, still driven by childish instincts, pretending at wisdom. There is both wonder and lament in this observation.

The final A H ! is ambiguous. It could be a sigh of relief, of realization, or of sorrow. It functions almost like a brushstroke at the end of a painting, a sudden exhalation that leaves the reader hanging between recognition and futility.

"Bud" is a poem of juxtaposition—war and instinct, numbness and innocence, scent and sterility. McClure evokes a world where human society has become detached from its organic rhythms, where communication has eroded into noise, yet where nature continues its patterns unbroken. The final image of children inside adults leaves the reader in a state of contemplation: is there still something pure within us, or have we merely become the carriers of something lost?

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