05-10-2020, 10:44 PM
[i]Thank you for sharing and writing about this. I fell into this poem and the imagery is outstanding. I have left a few comments below mainly about where I received mixed messages. Perhaps that was the point though- that violence is confusing and disorienting. [/i]
He said Nothing grows here,
as we climbed the path around Angel Island,
weaving like a circlet around its crest. The bay below,
disguising its depth in glitter, was ready
to catch me nonetheless.
The contrast between glitter and depth of support seems at odds. One is superficial, the other beautiful.
Against his complaint, I felt the summer oak, the rattlesnake grass
assuring me of their fertility. I couldn’t bring myself
to hold his hand.
I love this stanza on the second read through. “Responding to his complaint,” is a bit more clear, but perhaps it is worth it to make it a bit unclear.
I’d never believed in evil. I believed
in the hurt and the hungry, that a dog bites when it’s afraid.
This was lovely and my favorite line.
Until I felt his fingers dig into my arm
and for some insult I’d never intended, felt in his grip
his palpable need to salt every inch
of my earth by hand-- of the oak thicket and brush as he guided me.
felt a surging terror palpable need to salt every inch of my earth by hand is so powerful. I feel like it should be left alone. The break using “—” is good, but perhaps not enough.
An impulse to shout a warning to the birds there
that a dog was coming to crown himself in the snow
of their feathers, and that he was not mine.
Snow of their feathers is very lovely, but does distract from the scenery you built before.
I am assuming he is the dog and you are the bird, but addressing and shouting to them makes the role of the narrator confusing. Are you trying to warn someone else about him?
I resisted, for the first time, so quietly, being
This captures the unpredictability of emotional and physical response to violence or rape. It is at once confusing and very fitting. Very nicely done. I am deeply sorry if this is born from experience. I applaud you for writing and speaking about it.
dragged into those summer woods like an easy kill,
a waste of his good will.
You mention above that you now believe in evil. Can he/she have good will then? Or are you still believing that he/she is a dog that bites when it’s afraid?
I wasn’t always this small.
In those slavering jaws, making promises to the next man, that I’d love him
if he hurt me the least.
This line is very powerful, but I am unclear about tenses.
Perhaps, “In those slavering jaws, I make promises to the next man, that I will love him
If only he would hurt me less.”
I also am left wondering how the bay catches you. Do you revisit or reunite with it later? Do you walk back to it alone?
He said Nothing grows here,
as we climbed the path around Angel Island,
weaving like a circlet around its crest. The bay below,
disguising its depth in glitter, was ready
to catch me nonetheless.
The contrast between glitter and depth of support seems at odds. One is superficial, the other beautiful.
Against his complaint, I felt the summer oak, the rattlesnake grass
assuring me of their fertility. I couldn’t bring myself
to hold his hand.
I love this stanza on the second read through. “Responding to his complaint,” is a bit more clear, but perhaps it is worth it to make it a bit unclear.
I’d never believed in evil. I believed
in the hurt and the hungry, that a dog bites when it’s afraid.
This was lovely and my favorite line.
Until I felt his fingers dig into my arm
and for some insult I’d never intended, felt in his grip
his palpable need to salt every inch
of my earth by hand-- of the oak thicket and brush as he guided me.
felt a surging terror palpable need to salt every inch of my earth by hand is so powerful. I feel like it should be left alone. The break using “—” is good, but perhaps not enough.
An impulse to shout a warning to the birds there
that a dog was coming to crown himself in the snow
of their feathers, and that he was not mine.
Snow of their feathers is very lovely, but does distract from the scenery you built before.
I am assuming he is the dog and you are the bird, but addressing and shouting to them makes the role of the narrator confusing. Are you trying to warn someone else about him?
I resisted, for the first time, so quietly, being
This captures the unpredictability of emotional and physical response to violence or rape. It is at once confusing and very fitting. Very nicely done. I am deeply sorry if this is born from experience. I applaud you for writing and speaking about it.
dragged into those summer woods like an easy kill,
a waste of his good will.
You mention above that you now believe in evil. Can he/she have good will then? Or are you still believing that he/she is a dog that bites when it’s afraid?
I wasn’t always this small.
In those slavering jaws, making promises to the next man, that I’d love him
if he hurt me the least.
This line is very powerful, but I am unclear about tenses.
Perhaps, “In those slavering jaws, I make promises to the next man, that I will love him
If only he would hurt me less.”
I also am left wondering how the bay catches you. Do you revisit or reunite with it later? Do you walk back to it alone?