Ah, interesting memory ride, Max & I rode along. I think Sheila is asking if you need the first two & a half lines, really: maybe just begin in media res, so to speak. Let it happen then that final stanza feels even more pertinent.
I see the ‘restraint’ Bill points to, but wonder if all the passive )to be) constructions are necessary. The 3rd person for self works, but it is a construct felt in the poem.
Doug
On Jul 29, 2015, at 5:09 PM, Bill Wootton <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> A tour-de-force, Max, needing I think that opening stanza, Sheila, to set up expectations and more. At poem's end, the image which first sprung to mind was the 'morning play/of light on plain walls', so evocative, and providing such a contrast with cluttered walls everywhere these days. 'Stiff windows' is a good detail too, Max. Windows were once built to enclose views but have a look on their own. I am presuming it doesn't just mean windows that jam and are hard to raise. Glimpses of family life rendered with restraint. 'Distant Rush' captures train sound perfectly and 'rinsing road-dust from feet' is lovely. My only reservation is the ending. I'd leave off the last stanza, even perhaps ending with 'Dawn their destination' if it could be wangled.
>
> Bill
>
>> On 30 Jul 2015, at 3:15 am, Sheila Murphy <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>>
>> Max, this is wonderful. I cannot help the question:
>>
>> Could the first stanza go? The piece is stunning, and I think it works
>> better without that. Just a hunch.
>>
>> Sheila
>>
>>> On Wed, Jul 29, 2015 at 9:11 AM, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>>>
>>> Knowing His Places
>>>
>>> Looking back, he sees
>>> places worth the knowing -
>>> those early ones - waking
>>> to the morning play
>>> of light on plain walls,
>>>
>>> soft green leaves framed
>>> by stiff windows
>>> with birds in, birds
>>> on the lawn, birds
>>> with worms; first stirrings.
>>>
>>> Death is everyday.
>>> Bobby calves no-one mentions
>>> wait by the roadside.
>>> In the butcher shop
>>> hang lamb, veal, pork.
>>>
>>> Clouds pass over. Some days
>>> the mountain’s in place,
>>> snow the sun shines on;
>>> others, it's in hiding.
>>> Dad comes home from work.
>>>
>>> ‘Good evening, father,
>>> here are your slippers.’
>>> Food is in the kitchen
>>> with Mum and sister.
>>> ‘Look how the boy grows.’
>>>
>>> Lightning splits a tree.
>>> Somewhere a war ends,
>>> elsewhere another.
>>> Father has a new job,
>>> a new place for him
>>>
>>> to move to, find some place
>>> to live. When it’s found,
>>> he’ll send for family
>>> waiting in a country
>>> place, marking time.
>>>
>>> Removed to that place
>>> two days’ journey off,
>>> son sees the same and
>>> more - a river all summer
>>> runs under its bridge
>>>
>>> through shallows; rinsing
>>> road-dust from feet,
>>> they paddle in cool wet;
>>> slow across blue sky
>>> sun on their shoulders
>>>
>>> is red hot reddening.
>>> Mum has pink lotion.
>>> The distant rush
>>> of a train crosses
>>> somewhere downstream.
>>>
>>> Walking back is through
>>> a field of tall maize,
>>> a place in itself,
>>> sweet corn ripening
>>> in green wrapping.
>>>
>>> Beyond is the sea.
>>> Inland are bare hills.
>>> In autumn, they burn.
>>> Winter brings frosts,
>>> ice in the gutters.
>>>
>>> What is spring? life returns
>>> to tall green poplars.
>>> School: there’s your place,
>>> sit still, sing, count,
>>> draw, write, shush. Play.
>>>
>>> Shun that smelly place.
>>> Walking home, hold hands.
>>> Dad’s small car will be here soon
>>> to take them all to Wellington.
>>> His piano fits its new place.
>>>
>>> Other schools, houses, streets,
>>> places to get to know.
>>> Big trains: steam locomotives,
>>> overnight trips, pillows
>>> one shilling; dull red carriages.
>>>
>>> Settle to sleep - through
>>> tunnel-smoke onto the viaduct
>>> high above some river.
>>> Dawn their destination.
>>> Settled now? placed?
>>>
>>> One day he’d travel
>>> alone changing
>>> old places known
>>> for the fresh unknown
>>> why not forever?
>>>
>>> [Taranaki and Hawkes Bay 1945-6]
>>> Seattle July 2015
>>
Douglas Barbour
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Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations & Continuation 2 (UofAPress).
Recording Dates (Rubicon Press).
Done in by creation itself.
I mean the gods. Not us. Well us too.
The gods moved into books. Who wrote the books?
We wrote the books. In whose dream, then are we dreaming?
Robert Kroetsch.
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