I need to write 4-5 pages MLA format poetry analysis on 3 poems. I have attached the word documents with the 3 poems and the instructions.

Common Read and Poetry Interpretation Paper on Akbar’s Poetry

1.Choose one poem from each part – three poems total.

2.Imagine you are a literary critic writing an article to a scholarly journal. Write a compare/contrast essay discussing the poems’ tone, message, and Akbar’s writing style. In conclusion, think how all of these features come together to create the understanding of the poem? Do these poems have a literary merit? You may use two outside sources to support your claims in addition to the poems. Your article should be 4-5 double-spaced pages long. Use MLA formatting style and follow convention of the standard English.

3.Keep in mind that your article should have a title.

POEMS:

Looking for a Second Chance: Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar

Part I

STOP ME IF YOU’VE HEARD THIS ONE BEFORE

I can’t even remember my name, I who remember

So much- football scores, magic tricks, deep love

So close to God it was practically religious.

When you fall asleep in that sort of love

You wake up with bruises on your neck. I don’t

Have drunks, sirs, I have adventures. Every day

My body follows me around asking

For things. I try to think louder, try

To be brilliant, wildly brilliant. We all want

the same thing (to walk in sincere wonder,

like the first man to hear a parrot speak), but we live

on an enormous flatness floating between

two oceans. Sometimes you just have to leave

whatever’s real to you, you have to clomp

through fields and kick the caps off

all the toadstools. Sometimes

you have to march all the way to Galilee

or the literal foot of God himself before you realize

you’ve already passed the place where

you were supposed to die. I can no longer remember

the being afraid, only that it came to an end.

Part II

BEST SHADOWS

You love when I’m like this, coated

With ranch dressing and rum. Look under

The bandages- an entire saint! Here’s

What I own: a blackened coin and yes

for an answer. The countdown to the next major miracle

is on. Till then, I’ll manage less and less. Did you rejoice

when you left? If you spin around quickly enough,

it’s almost like being drunk. This has to do

with the liquids in your skull. I never told you

about the tiny beetle I saw crawl out of your ear, afraid

you wouldn’t sleep in my bed again if you knew.

I wish you were here so I could bend a mirror

Around your face, pour you back into you. Ah,

there goes another wish. Minute to minute I’m fine-

right lung, left lung, blink- but the late hours

get so long. One of the best shadows I cast is the one

that ripples over water. There is so much ink

in our river now; it’s swallowing up all the green.

Do you know how hard it is to dig a new river?

To be the single tongue in a sack full of teeth?

Sometimes I get the feeling you’re never coming back.

Part III

GOD

I am ready for you to come back. Whether in a train full of dying

Criminals or on the gleaming saddle of a locust, you are needed again.

The earth is a giant chessboard where the dark squares get all the rain.

On this one the wet is driving people mad- the bankers all baying

in the woods while their markets fail, a florist chewing up flowers

in the air while the ocean hoots itself to sleep. I live on the skull

of a giant burning brain, the earth’s core. Sometimes I can feel it pulsing

through the dirt, though even this you ignore. The mind wants what it wants:

daily newspapers, snapping turtles, a pound of flesh. The work I’ve been doing

is a kind of erasing. I dump my ashtray into a bucket of paint and coat myself

in the gray slick, rolling around on the carpets of rich strangers

while they applaud and sip their scotch. A body can cause almost anything

to happen. Remember when you breathed through my mouth, your breath

becoming mine? Remember when you sang for me and I fell to the floor,

turning into a thousand mice? Whatever it was we were practicing

cannot happen without you. I thought I saw you last year, bark wrapped

around your thighs, lurching toward the shore at dawn. It was only mist

and dumb want. They say even longing has its limits: in a bucket, an eel

will simply stop swimming long before it starves. Wounded wolves will pad

away from their pack to die lonely and cold. Do you know how scary

it can get here? The talons that dropped me left long scars around

my neck that still burn in the wind. I was promised epiphany, earth-

honey, and a flood of milk, but I will settle for anything that brings you now,

you still-hungry mongrel, you glut of bone, you, scentless as gold.