all's well that ends well! So They Say.
having been part of many an exchange of thoughts alike to the one just
ended -- topic, conversation, fume, reconciliation -- I've been
sitting back to just witness; it's thrilling in a way, like
eavesdropping on a personal phonecall. but since I never commented on
the original poem that began this thread, here's my drag back to
basics.
Sharon, I'm very fond of this poem indeed; the hasteless barrage of
imagery alone is enough to win me over, but the pace & impulses of the
piece are also delightful. what critique I have to offer concerns
focus, & is coloured with my own tastes; but I'll begin.
I was very glad to notice, by about line 4, that the plain-&-simple
tone nudged off by the opening line didn't degenerate into bland
observational description, but came very soon to change into a tone of
introspection-based witnessing & of an almost surreal walk; like
taking each step especially softly for fear that traipsing would break
whatever it is that's going on around you. said surreal feel is
brought about of course with the abstracts "voices", "dreams"; the
repetition of "air" upholds it. at first I disliked it, but the
caesuras are practically integral to the setup's sustain.
"symphonies", when I first thought about it, also didn't seem to work
well; but I find it now a pretty neutral word, conveying elegance at
least & drama at worst. it's also a terribly regular word to use of
birdsong, & I would disapprove of it at once were it not saved by the
counterbalance of "waxwing", which is not a common word or even a
common group of sounds (e.g. [w] following [ks]). I'm of the opinion
that even clichés can be saved by especially skilled placing of the
truly original, surrounding the disruptive word(s).
"percussion", on the other hand, is not tired in the least, & is a
well-placed word to follow the rhythmic buildup of "symphonies / of
waxwings and robins"; "a percussion", being a hypermetric anapaest (I
think), has a majority of unstresses around a single stress, & it
sounds sweet. (not noticable perhaps to someone less obsessed by the
sounds of language...) the ellipsis on l.5 is equally well chosen, or
even moreso because the (fascinating) interrogative phrase that
follows it changes the setting before the reader's eyes, from sounds &
scapes to the very present: the 'entering' itself is given a soft sort
of emphasis. I like very much the juxtaposition of the 'past' &
'night', it fits the concept & doesn't loom in the least. I say
juxtaposition because the past & the idea of nighttime don't seem to
be correlations here: in fact I'd say that, the past & the future
indicated, that the "night pockets" are the present, or the
subconscious mind perceiving the present.
it's interesting to see how this one rhetorical question is bracketed
on either side by naturalistic observations. the two that follow it
appear as opposites; the first lighthearted & humorous, the fish
swimming from the dark to the limpid a metaphorical view: thoughts (or
passions or voices or the past) swimming up; or not swimming,
'drifting', unaided & unintentionally.
it's the ending that gives me a feeling of being cut off. I mentioned
focus above, & here's what I mean by that: the focal point at the end
of the poem (the end being the last say, the overall impression
communicated) is on the trees, the squirrels, the fish, the mist. but
I feel like there should be some afterthought flashback to the
internal, some mild tying together of the 'crowded head' feeling. I
hope you don't mind if I share with you a phrase that popped into my
head as I was considering the ending; my vision of an alternative
ending:
... into pale water. At dusk the mountains
were scarved with mist, and the voices smiled.
rather too blunt (I wouldn't use it), but that's just the direction I
was hoping for in the ending. the poem now feels something like I
think E.E. Cummings' poem "maggie and milly and molly and may" would
feel if the final stanza were not included: pretty, interesting &
enjoyable -- but unrounded.
KS
On 10/04/07, Joseph Duemer <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Stephen, thanks for posting this. Indeed, we will all I am sure let it rest.
>
> jd
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