04-04-2015, 06:24 AM
Hi Leah, I haven't read the critiques, but I remember reading the original and having no time to comment. So, I've come back now. I'm going to focus more on content and word choice less on form. Here goes:
Ode To Asperger's Revision 2
The world's too close; and never safe or plain.--I like the idea expressed about the world pressing in, but it feels like you're just giving me the flat idea. I'd like something a bit more evocative for an opening line. If you could go down one more level to an image that brings this idea across it would probably be stronger and give the poem force to propel the reader forward.
I want to tell you what it's like out there--This line could be cut because you go into line three if the rhyme scheme wasn't a consideration and lose nothing. The writing itself is the act of telling--this line reminds me of a habit I have that irritates my wife. I say: Can I ask you a question. She says: You are. This is filler much like my question.
beyond my door: it's chaos and old pain.--Chaos and old pain is vague
I want to drive somewhere, so I must bear
my old garage door's perforating din.--perforating din is a nice touch.
Unraveling, I climb into the car;--I like unraveling but I think you need to build more to show that word as the ultimate conclusion of the sequence.
the seat-belt viciously abrades my skin.--viciously is too telling. Can you get there with an action and not an adverb?
No choice; each time I have to go too far.
I see each single leaf and piece of trash--This is still not definite enough. The vein of each single leaf. Some distinctive element of the trash.
across the floor; before the car's in gear
I'm rattled by a buzzing in the dash;
a squeal as well, that I can barely hear.--The buzzing and the squeal present an opportunity for imagery. Animals or insects? Something to make this more than just flat words. Bring us into the scene.
Behind the wheel, I catalogue the smells:
exhaust; the dog; a spilled essential oil;--good list, maybe an em dash after oil naming the particular oil.
damp wool; deodorant. My nose rebels
against the random mix, and I recoil.
Dried water-spots on rear-view mirror glass
are overlays that move and disappear
as I back out the drive. Before I pass,
a dozen things insist I see them near:
a crushed McDonald's cup; a ziploc bag;
a plastic GI Joe; a toddler's sock;
a trail of antifreeze; a greasy rag;
the lug nut from a wheel; a broken lock.--While I like the sense of overload you may want to introduce a parallel tension. A child on a bike perhaps, an animal near the car. If you can weave a real danger into the overload it might ratchet up the intensity. If you're not careful too much will eventually become noise. I want to have a reason not to read this too quickly.
Before I've gone a mile, a hundred more:
(not only what I see, but what I hear)
the roar of inbound jets that shake my core,--is it likely that there is more than a single jet in under a mile
the blasting hiss of brakes beside my ear.
So far it isn't fun, but still time flies--cliche ending to the line detracts
as dread accumulates: a tidal wave
created from impending mouths and eyes
of people I don't know. I must be brave.
My self-reliance dictates policy,--This line feels sterile and disconnected from the previous lines. The effect is likely deliberate but I don't know if it's a good choice.
(It always does, regardless of my fear.)
I sell an apt pretence of normalcy
but even so, the effort costs me dear.--In fact, I really don't like the content or tone change of these first four lines. They detract from the scene and content for me.
My neck's as stiff as steel when I arrive
and sidle in, avoiding every eye.
I shrug my way past chattiness; contrive,
with every unmet glance, my alibi.
So no-one knows that I've got what it takes,
or calls to mind a word I left unsaid.
I'll leave sometime before my patience breaks,
and once I'm gone, I might as well be dead.--I don't dislike the ending, but I think you need to build to it more to actually sell it to the reader. I think that work has to be mostly done in the previous stanza.
I like the idea you're exploring quite a bit. I hope some of these comments will be helpful to you.
Best.
Todd
Ode To Asperger's Revision 2
The world's too close; and never safe or plain.--I like the idea expressed about the world pressing in, but it feels like you're just giving me the flat idea. I'd like something a bit more evocative for an opening line. If you could go down one more level to an image that brings this idea across it would probably be stronger and give the poem force to propel the reader forward.
I want to tell you what it's like out there--This line could be cut because you go into line three if the rhyme scheme wasn't a consideration and lose nothing. The writing itself is the act of telling--this line reminds me of a habit I have that irritates my wife. I say: Can I ask you a question. She says: You are. This is filler much like my question.
beyond my door: it's chaos and old pain.--Chaos and old pain is vague
I want to drive somewhere, so I must bear
my old garage door's perforating din.--perforating din is a nice touch.
Unraveling, I climb into the car;--I like unraveling but I think you need to build more to show that word as the ultimate conclusion of the sequence.
the seat-belt viciously abrades my skin.--viciously is too telling. Can you get there with an action and not an adverb?
No choice; each time I have to go too far.
I see each single leaf and piece of trash--This is still not definite enough. The vein of each single leaf. Some distinctive element of the trash.
across the floor; before the car's in gear
I'm rattled by a buzzing in the dash;
a squeal as well, that I can barely hear.--The buzzing and the squeal present an opportunity for imagery. Animals or insects? Something to make this more than just flat words. Bring us into the scene.
Behind the wheel, I catalogue the smells:
exhaust; the dog; a spilled essential oil;--good list, maybe an em dash after oil naming the particular oil.
damp wool; deodorant. My nose rebels
against the random mix, and I recoil.
Dried water-spots on rear-view mirror glass
are overlays that move and disappear
as I back out the drive. Before I pass,
a dozen things insist I see them near:
a crushed McDonald's cup; a ziploc bag;
a plastic GI Joe; a toddler's sock;
a trail of antifreeze; a greasy rag;
the lug nut from a wheel; a broken lock.--While I like the sense of overload you may want to introduce a parallel tension. A child on a bike perhaps, an animal near the car. If you can weave a real danger into the overload it might ratchet up the intensity. If you're not careful too much will eventually become noise. I want to have a reason not to read this too quickly.
Before I've gone a mile, a hundred more:
(not only what I see, but what I hear)
the roar of inbound jets that shake my core,--is it likely that there is more than a single jet in under a mile
the blasting hiss of brakes beside my ear.
So far it isn't fun, but still time flies--cliche ending to the line detracts
as dread accumulates: a tidal wave
created from impending mouths and eyes
of people I don't know. I must be brave.
My self-reliance dictates policy,--This line feels sterile and disconnected from the previous lines. The effect is likely deliberate but I don't know if it's a good choice.
(It always does, regardless of my fear.)
I sell an apt pretence of normalcy
but even so, the effort costs me dear.--In fact, I really don't like the content or tone change of these first four lines. They detract from the scene and content for me.
My neck's as stiff as steel when I arrive
and sidle in, avoiding every eye.
I shrug my way past chattiness; contrive,
with every unmet glance, my alibi.
So no-one knows that I've got what it takes,
or calls to mind a word I left unsaid.
I'll leave sometime before my patience breaks,
and once I'm gone, I might as well be dead.--I don't dislike the ending, but I think you need to build to it more to actually sell it to the reader. I think that work has to be mostly done in the previous stanza.
I like the idea you're exploring quite a bit. I hope some of these comments will be helpful to you.
Best.
Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson