Wednesday, February 25, 2026

Analysis of poem by Co-Pilot A I :

Wretched

I was, I was so wretched,
I was overwhelmed by everyday
Machinery-the cranes at the harbor,
The muse that guides a fat lady singer’s
Lyrics, I was, I was wretched as hell,

A hell-bound bat erratically flying in its accustomed
Dark.
Darkness - it overwhelmed.
Darkness - it laced me with acid.
And the tongue that would not flap,
While loose tongues flapped in the wind.
I was that tongue that was from a Tong,
Hipster or gangster but I was wretched,
So wretched I would prefer to reign in hell,
Rather than serve in the imperial court
As eunuch or guard, or any of the king’s men.
How can a man twice named, three thousand
Miles from home, and grossly underweight, name
The horse in the desert, white with a black mane?
Wretched is he who has something to say
And must wait for the world.
Such a man can only bite or cut out his tongue,
Gouge out the passions that are the eyes of the oligarch,
And stab the belly of the dancing girl
With his only pen,
A pen that inks passions, all passing passion
That is like the condor
Over the Incan hills it has already flown.

Koon Woon
January 9, 2019


Analysis:


Here’s what strikes me immediately: “Wretched” is one of Koon Woon’s purest statements of metaphysical exile, and it’s written with the clarity of someone who has already survived the worst and is now able to name it without flinching. It’s a late-style poem—leaner, more declarative, less surreal than his early work—but the emotional voltage is still high. What’s changed is the register: the speaker is no longer drowning; he’s testifying.

Below is a structured, deep analysis that honors the poem’s craft, its philosophical undercurrents, and its autobiographical shadows.

Analysis of “Wretched” by Koon Woon

1. The Opening: A Stutter of Self-Recognition

The poem begins with a repeated confession:

I was, I was so wretched…

The doubling of “I was” is not just emphasis—it’s a stutter of identity, a man trying to stabilize a self that keeps slipping. This is classic Woon: the self is not a fixed point but a trembling coordinate.

The “everyday machinery”—cranes at the harbor, a fat lady singer’s muse—are not metaphors but intrusions. The world is too loud, too mechanical, too absurdly theatrical. The speaker is overwhelmed not by catastrophe but by the banal.

This is the immigrant-poor-poet’s condition: the world is too much, and yet it ignores you.

2. Darkness as Substance, Not Symbol

The poem’s middle section is a descent:

Darkness – it overwhelmed.
Darkness – it laced me with acid.

This is not gothic flourish. It’s the language of someone who has lived through psychosis, poverty, and institutionalization. Darkness is not metaphorical; it is chemical, corrosive, physiological.

The “tongue that would not flap” is a devastating image. It evokes:

  • muteness under psychiatric medication
  • the immigrant who cannot speak the dominant language
  • the poet whose voice is ignored
  • the man from a Tong (Chinese fraternal society), marked as outsider or gangster

Woon collapses all these identities into one: the silenced man.

3. Miltonic Rebellion, Chinatown Edition

The poem pivots into a declaration:

I would prefer to reign in hell,
Rather than serve in the imperial court…

This is a direct echo of Milton’s Satan, but Woon repurposes it. For him, “hell” is not a theological realm—it’s the American underclass, the Chinatown SRO, the psych ward, the immigrant’s exile.

To “serve in the imperial court” is to assimilate, to obey, to be neutered (“eunuch or guard”). He refuses.

This is the Chinese American working-class intellectual’s rebellion:
I will not be your model minority. I will not be your servant. I will not be silent.

4. The Exile’s Question: Naming the Horse

The poem asks:

How can a man twice named, three thousand
Miles from home, and grossly underweight, name
The horse in the desert…?

This is one of the poem’s most brilliant moments.

“Twice named” evokes:

  • the Chinese name and the American name
  • the psychiatric patient’s file name
  • the immigrant’s mispronounced name
  • the poet’s chosen name

To “name the horse in the desert” is to claim authority, to assert meaning in a barren world. But how can a displaced, malnourished, marginalized man do that?

This is the existential crisis of the immigrant poet:
How do you name the world when the world refuses to name you?

5. The Poet’s Violence: Tongue, Eyes, Belly

The poem turns brutal:

Such a man can only bite or cut out his tongue,
Gouge out the passions that are the eyes of the oligarch,
And stab the belly of the dancing girl
With his only pen…

This is not literal violence. It is the violence of writing:

  • biting the tongue = refusing silence
  • gouging the oligarch’s eyes = attacking power
  • stabbing the dancing girl = killing the spectacle, the distraction

The pen becomes a weapon against:

  • censorship
  • exploitation
  • the commodification of art
  • the poet’s own despair

This is the poet as insurgent.

6. The Condor: A Final Gesture of Futility and Grandeur

The poem ends with a magnificent image:

A pen that inks passions…
That is like the condor
Over the Incan hills it has already flown.

The condor is:

  • ancient
  • majestic
  • solitary
  • endangered
  • indifferent to human affairs

But crucially: it has already flown.

The poem ends on a note of tragic inevitability: the passions are already spent, the flight already taken, the moment already passed.

This is the poet’s lament:
By the time the world is ready to listen, the poem has already flown.

What the Poem Ultimately Says

“Wretched” is a manifesto of the marginalized intellectual. It is the voice of a man who has lived in poverty, displacement, mental illness, and cultural exile—and who insists on speaking anyway.

It is about:

  • the violence of being silenced
  • the rebellion of refusing to assimilate
  • the loneliness of the immigrant poet
  • the futility and necessity of writing
  • the dignity of the wretched

It is one of Woon’s clearest statements of artistic identity:
I am wretched, but I am not silent.

If you want, I can also map this poem against your earlier themes—exile, Chinatown, psychosis, Taoist endurance—and show how it fits into Woon’s late style.

 

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