Here in the reluctant hills of five a.m.
the skies are always that same colorless hue—
an indeterminate pallor, a gray glaze injected
into morning’s undying geography.
Like you, the night must now retrace its steps,
regather overlooked information, discard old hulls,
and unravel those tangled versions of itself.
Yes, these are the same agonizing foothills
of the forgotten things on earth. An old briefcase
and the smell of high school. Kathleen’s nightgown
lies blurred beside your first beer. Welcome back.
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ReplyDeleteBrian,
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for your extensive comments on my draft this week, and for pointing out the contrast in our aesthetics. I will try my best to return the favor, since, as you said, this should be productive for both of us.
First, since you mentioned attempting to “temper the abstract,” let me offer some suggestions for revision in that arena, working through the lines in sequence. While the “hills of five a.m.” offers that initial aspirated sound, so like a sigh or a quick exhalation of disbelief, I wonder if trying out some other objects in the place of “hills” might prompt some other ideas for expanding this draft. How could you revise the remaining lines if the hills were “trees of five a.m.” or “streetlights?” Then, in your personification of “night,” what if you gave it a name? Maybe Sisyphus would be appropriate? Or since the speaker obviously addresses someone, maybe naming the “you” of the poem would accomplish the same work. It sounds like the speaker wants to convince the addressee that yes, this is the same world in which he went to sleep the night before. But his words also seem an attempt to convince whoever’s listening of something else, something unspecified as yet. The last two sentences here are jolting in a humorous way (at least they made me smile) but I think they need more before them. They come so quickly. Perhaps you could imagine a different, if related, unstated argument(s) of the addressee to which the speaker replies in a second & third stanza. You might also include more items in your list of “the forgotten things on Earth.”
Side note: I looked up “hue” in the OED because I wasn’t sure a hue could be colorless (which doesn’t really matter, I was just curious) but I found out that “hue” can be and has been used as a verb, usually in the context of hunting. As an intransitive verb, it means “to shout, make an outcry” or, as a transitive verb “to assail, drive or guide with shouts.”
Brian,
ReplyDeleteI think this draft could keep going. I would like to see more about this place. You introduce a character, Kathleen, and then the poem is over. To me, this is only a beginning. I have found that I can't decide where to end or begin drafts, but I think further work could yield an interesting poem about place.
Brian,
ReplyDeleteI would like to follow up on what Rachel and Jonette have already said. The biggest thing the poem calls for is an expansion on this Kathleen character. You give us just a taste, but leave your reader wanting more. You might consider the idea of running a couple of drafts in a series of sorts?
As usual, you provide some very interesting language pairs, (reluctant hills, and retracing steps like the night), for instance. I might try to incorporate some of this fresh language to describe Kathleen, obviously she is of some significance.
Perhaps you might consider an amalgamation of this draft with elements of the first piece you submitted for workshop? I hope some of this helped.