Outside Room 7 at the Merryman Motel (revision 3)

[Todd]

Revision 3

Whenever my Siamese cat tells me you're cheating
again, this headache becomes an icicle
shattering on stone.

It's crazy to think that cats can talk, or even purr,
when it's clearly the buzz
of implanted transmitters.
Our secrets pad down moonlit paths,
slip underneath roof shadows.

It told me where to find the bullet
pristine, like it had never been fired.
Oswald acted alone. But I knew that
already: some moments are too intimate

to share, though, they do require preparation.
I chew on small squares of tinfoil to create interference.
The electrochemical current causes saliva
to react with my fillings,
so that I can become mercury vapor
drifting invisibly beneath the window

of the roadside motel you visit every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.

~~~
Edit: Implemented revision suggestions from Chris in Spoken Word thread.

Revision 2

Whenever my Siamese cat tells me you're cheating
again, this headache becomes an icicle
shattering on stone.

It's crazy to think that cats can talk, or even purr,
when it's clearly the buzz
of implanted transmitters.
Our secrets pad down moonlit paths,
slip underneath roof shadows.

It told me where to find the bullet
pristine, like it had never been fired.
Oswald acted alone. But I knew that
already: some moments are too intimate

to share, though, they do require preparation.
I chew on small squares of tinfoil to create interference.
The electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I can become cigarette smoke
drifting invisible beneath the window

of the roadside motel you visit every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.

~~~

Revision

Whenever my Siamese cat tells me
you're cheating again,
this headache becomes icicles
shattering on stone.

It purrs then, not to sooth but to cover
the buzz of implanted transmitters.
Your secrets have often padded down
this same moonlit path.

It has spoken of more
then your infidelities. I have heard
of book depositories, and movie studios
with flags waving on windless,
pock-marked rock.

They can never report on me.
I chew tinfoil to create interference,
the electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I become like cigarette smoke
drifting insubstantial beneath the window

of the roadside motel you visit
every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.

~~~

Original

Whenever my Siamese cat tells me
you're cheating again,
this headache becomes icicles
shattering on stone.

It's crazy to think that cats can talk,
or even purr, when it's clearly the buzz
of implanted transmitters.
Our secrets pad down moonlit paths,
slip beneath roof shadows,

slink into book depositories,
and movie studios with flags
waving on a windless, pock-marked surface.

I chew on tinfoil to create interference.
The electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I can become like cigarette smoke
drifting invisible beneath the windows

of the roadside motel you visit
every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.

[billy]

i really liked the first verse.
i also enjoyed the rest but not as part of the 1st verse. all the other verses
remind me of movies and cover ups but i can't put the thing together.
the vignettes seem connected but stand apart. the last verse is self contained.
and so is the 4th but somehow they feel disconnected.
i'll come back for another go later, sorry i wasn't too constructive.

[ICSoria]

i really liked the first verse.
i also enjoyed the rest but not as part of the 1st verse. all the other verses
remind me of movies and cover ups but i can't put the thing together.
the vignettes seem connected but stand apart. the last verse is self contained.
and so is the 4th but somehow they feel disconnected...

I had looked at this earlier and hesitated to critique it because I was thinking along the same lines as Billy, but I thought it was only me.

I loved most of the first strophe; really liked the last, along with certain lines in between, but these didn't seem cohesive as a whole. The second through fourth strophes have enough good elements to stand alone as one or two good poems by themselves.

Sid

[Todd]

Thanks guys, for the comments. It helps on initial drafts to know if the connections are holding up. Is this any better? Or is it a step backward?

Thanks again,

Todd

[billy]

Revision

Whenever my Siamese cat tells me
you're cheating again,
this headache becomes icicles
shattering on stone.

It purrs then, not to sooth but to cover
the buzz of implanted transmitters.
Your secrets have often padded down
this same moonlit path.

It has spoken of more
then your infidelities. I have heard
of book depositories, and movie studios
with flags waving on windless,
pock-marked rock.

They can never report on me.
I chew tinfoil to create interference,
the electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I become like cigarette smoke
drifting insubstantial beneath the window

of the roadside motel you visit
every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious.

it feels to be a bigger picture than the original but i still can't get a handle on it. i still see films in the poem but now i also get an impression that the cat is a metaphor for something. i'm just struggling to see what the writer sees, apart from conspiracy theories (if that's what they were?) sorry for my inane response but it's all i had.
i have an idea that the title of the pice plays an important role, i did google it but found nothing that could lead me to some kind of closure.

thanks for the read, edit.

[Todd]

That's okay Billy, thanks for coming back to it. I appreciate the effort, any confusion is likely the fault of the poem.

[billy]

not always hehe, i have been known to get it really really wrong

i think all poets good and not so good need to put certain poems in a draw and keep taking them out for the rest of their lives. (i count you as one of the former in respect to poets) i just struggled with it and didn't know what else to say. it's certainly better than many poems i've read or written that you did an edit deserved a response. thank you for taking it so graciously.

[Leanne]

You're not going to be happy with me... but I actually preferred your original version, it seemed more personality-laden, especially the second stanza's "It's crazy to think that cats can talk", which ties in perfectly with the tinfoil later on (since that's the headgear of choice for the well-dressed loony on the street). In fact, the only thing I would have changed in the first version (and in the second, since you've kept it) is removing the simile in "so that I can become like cigarette smoke", since "so that I can become cigarette smoke" seems much stronger to me.

[Todd]

No, I don't hate you at all Leanne. I'll take it all into consideration. I usually have about 40 revisions per poem, and many of them are steps backward.

Thank you for commenting.

Best,

Todd

[Todd]

I think I see where this needs to go now. Sometimes writing poetry is like one of those magic picture book the image finally comes together. Hope to get something up in a few days.

[heslopian]

This comment is on the revised version.

I like how this poem somehow manages to be dark and sinister yet also charming. The narrator is completely psychotic, and no doubt a hair's breadth away from hacking up his former sweetheart into a million bloody pieces, but he's so pathetic that I warmed to him nonetheless.
These lines were perfect, and gave me the silent pleasure such poetry does when everything falls into place: the breaks, the images, all of it:

"I chew tinfoil to create interference,
the electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I become like cigarette smoke
drifting insubstantial beneath the window

of the roadside motel you visit
every Thursday."

[Todd]

Jack, thank you so much for the comments.. I appreciate your read on the poem.

Well, I created another revision based on the feedback here and some I got from another writer friend whom I share work with.

Here's what I tried to do with this revision: work with the line lengths to mix up the pacing for the narrator. Tighten S3 to see if that would help pull the piece together. I took Leanne's cigarette smoke note. So, I'm wondering if this feels stronger, it does to me, but I'm a bad judge of my own work and would welcome any additional comments.

[Leanne]

I like the changes in line length, it gives the poem more of a noir feel to my reading, though I'm not entirely sure why

To be honest, the Oswald reference came at me a bit out of the blue -- I know who he was, obviously, but I feel I'm missing some larger connotation that might be more US-specific.

[Todd]

Well I wanted to introduce the idea of violent action through the "magic bullet". I alluded to with the book depository but that felt weak. I wanted this guy to be receiving messages and having secret knowledge and Oswald and the Kennedy assassination are the pinnacle for US Conspiracy nuts.

Thanks for coming back to this Leanne.

Much Appreciated,

Todd

[billy]

can you do me a favour please todd and repost the three versions in another thread please

[Todd]

Sure Billy will do.

[billy]

Revision 2

Whenever my Siamese cat tells me you're cheating
again, this headache becomes an icicle i like the enjambment in this verse
shattering on stone.

It's crazy to think that cats can talk, or even purr,
when it's clearly the buzz
of implanted transmitters.
Our secrets pad down moonlit paths,
slip underneath roof shadows. for me this makes more sense, and the first line is a little funny if you think about it. now conspiracy becomes an idea in the readers thoughts.

It told me where to find the bullet
pristine, like it had never been fired.
Oswald acted alone. But I knew that
already: some moments are too intimate i know of the theory but struggle see why a bullet would be found instead of a shell casing?

to share though, they do require preparation.
I chew on small squares of tinfoil to create interference.
The electrochemical reaction combines
with the mercury in my fillings,
so that I can become cigarette smoke
drifting invisible beneath the window i see now why i thought of the film where they all wore tinfoil hats, and how i was wrong. i should have seen it then. the 1st line leads into the verse much better here.

of the roadside motel you visit every Thursday.
You might see my reflected smile
as you apply lipstick,
or you might miss the obvious. i like this verse best. it feels threatening yet has little belief

i think the edit works well, the only prob i had was with the bullet as opposed to the shell casing. other than that it works well. it reminds me of gidions bible and the metallic strip in currencies all having bugs

[Todd]

Billy,

Thank you for the comments I appreciate them. I do have a question about the point you raised (I live in Texas so they might revoke my state citizenship for this): if the bullet had been fired meaning the actual bullet that hit Kennedy than they either would have dug out the spent slug (the now deformed bullet itself or found the casing that was ejected at the scene which obviously couldn't be reused, is this the point you are making (honest question). If this narrator who I see as unreliable from the first line has a bullet which he believes to be the one Oswald used and he finds it to be pristine and unfired he would call it a bullet I think not the casing. At least that was where my head was at when I called it a bullet. I may be missing your point though and wanted to check. It could be that I need to add more to pull off the idea

Thanks again,

Todd

[billy]

i get that but you also say ossy acted alone, for me it would work if ossy never acted alone, then they could find the bullet he never fired.
t could be me whose got wonky wiring hehe. thanks for explaining

[Todd]

I get what you're saying Billy and that there is a definite logic to that position. You're not being wonky the speaker is. Oswald has to act alone for him because he wants to act alone. He sees it as intimate. The bullet has to fit his view of how things must be. Oh, well I don't want this to come off as defending the poem(not my intent). Again unreliable narrator is unreliable