Hello Carl,
           Thanks for your comments on this piece. I´m quite familiar with the metaphor of stream-and-life but less so with desire-as-water, which you say is overworked. I would be interested to have a look at some of the ways this metaphor has been treated by others. Do you think you could mention a few examples?
You are certainly right that having a pile of bare feet ready for dipping in the water is ridiculous and my lines could be read like that. The question though is really whether the words requuire that reading. `He stood on the bankside/dipped bare feet in the flow´ to me suggests nothing more bizarre than paddling. It would be possible to re-phrase the lines as - He stood on the bankside and dipped his bare feet in the water  - and still ask, `did he have a pile of bare feet beside him? This mis-reading would still be `possible´ since if the pile of feet belonged to him they would be `his bare feet´. 
Your point about the truth of the metaphor is one that I feel more inclined to take seriously. You say that the narrative in S2 only works in terms of desire and that the narrative does not make literal sense. You don´t use exactly those words but that is how I understand it - correct me if I´ve got it wrong. This is certainly something that I need to look at. The example you take, though, puzzles me a bit. You refer to the opening 3 lines of S2 and I can´t see what your objection is to the literal sense of the narrative there. Could it be that you are assuming the the three actions - stood, dipped, slaked his thirst - happen simultaneously? That would certainly require some dexterity, if not contortion. But there is no necessity for them to happen simultaneously, they can be consecutive. - We arrived at the beach, undressed, and ran into the sea. - No one would ask how you can run into the sea while undressing. Or is it the bucket you object to? Does drinking from a bucket disturb you? My idea here, of course, was that the bucket has come from a well, already mentioned in S1.
Personally, I would be more critical of the sudden change in S2 after those 3 lines. The link, of course, is only through the metaphor. The question of how far the metaphor needs to be compatible with everyday experience is an interesting one. My feeling is that poetry - all art - has a flexible relationship with reality.
By the way, when you anticipate my counter-arguments you say that I will say this poem is about love. Actually it´s not about love, it´s about desire.
I think that´s enough for now. I´d be very interested to hear what you think of any of the points I´ve made if you´d like to pursue the discussion.



Best wishes,   Mike




--- Alkuperäinen viesti ---
This poem has a number of key problems. First, desire-as-water has been
done to death. Second, the metaphorical narrative of S2 only works in
terms of desire. As plainly stated it is bizarre: he is dipping bare
feet (did he have a small pile nearby?) into the flow "but"(?) uses
buckets to slake his thirst. Try to picture that. A metaphor must be
true to itself. Try to picture somebody standing by a stream dipping
(his) feet in "but" slaking his thirst furtively with buckets etc.,
it's just a weird image. Try not to reply to this by claiming, 'Ah yes,
the weirdness of it is the weirdness of being in love: love is just like
that, and this is a poem about that feeling.' Try always first to make
sense.

S3 and S4.1 are very telly, very flat. S4.2-3 are up out of nowhere.
"the scrape of furniture, click of a lock" sounds like someone being
locked up against his will, or like someone trying to lock himself away
from an attacker. "a key alone on the table" can mean goodbye or hello.
Don't be tempted to think 'Ah yes, that's why the poem works: desire is
just like that: you don't know if it's a goodbye or a hello.' Try to
present the reader with a well-crafted idea expressed largely in imagery.

Carl
=============

Desire

Their desire flowed like a stream;
here the surface rippled and splashed,
refracting sunlight,
there it ran smooth and deep.
In places it ran underground
as an underground spring might feed a well
or chill the air with a dampness like fear.

He stood on the bankside,
dipped bare feet in the flow
but slaked his thirst from furtive buckets.
There was no battle, no tears, yet she was hurt.
She spoke Janus words, turning in the doorway
like a stream turned from its course,
and observed him, puzzled, dowsing.

He knew something was lacking.
Later he called it confidence,
finally a form of trust.

There had been a desire, fear, a lack;
the scrape of furniture, click of a lock,
a key alone on the table.