06-16-2021, 12:41 AM
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Hi TqB.
(A not too mild and immoderate critique).
It's a bit confused, to me and I can't tell who the audience might be. Perhaps someone who knows who Joe Romero and Sasha (no last name) are? I assumed Sasha was a male friend, but ... (not a clue).
If it's supposed to be a series of journal entries, then maybe put a bit of effort into making that form consistent across the piece.
What is 'night jet' S7? I liked dogs howling at it, but ... (not a clue).
Mountain Sojourn ... not an engaging title
I drove 500 miles that first day ... the first use of 'first' in the poem. And a nod to the Proclaimers ?
from the hills of South Texas .... I know you like long lines but breaking here gives you (the reader) a space to contemplate where N has left and where they are going (and why).
to the Comanche plains of the Panhandle .... I'd also break here, allowing for the space N has travelled to the hotel room. (any modifier for the 'hills' to pair with 'Comanche plains'?)
lodged in a dismal beaten down hotel room ... can't see a beaten down hotel room being anything other than dismal (maybe stopped in a beat down motel room?)
Bhagavad Gita along with Bible in bedside drawer ... like the sonics of Bhagavad Gita after 'beat/en down' but both that and the bible seem odd (and slightly more upscale than has been suggested)
ate terrible Thai food ... so what? A detail that adds nothing
shot out of there like a cannon shell ... a simile that adds nothing (no explanation for why N might be hurrying)
at dawn next morning
I think you could rework this section (and the above)
After a sleepless night (not a serious suggestion, but a place to start)
in a dismal beat down motel room
with the Bhagavad Gita and Bible
in the bedside drawer
another early start
through the Kiowa grasslands, gentle sea of grass ... 'grasslands' then 'sea of grass' ? Really?
into New Mexico and loneliness ... nice line, and a good place to break.
like an escaped outlaw.
But outlaws are confused by freedom
like the shepherd puppy
who met me at the cabin
with barks and jumps and uncertainty
as I settled into my Sangre de Christo hideout. ... this is all pretty pedestrian, and the 'escaped outlaw' idea seems nothing but a distraction. It takes far too long to get to the 'turning myself in' payoff.
I think some detail, for the reader, of just where N is, and what the S de C hideout might actually be.
The first morning, I had three ravens on the deck rail. ... 'there were' for 'I had'? I like the line, ominous and omen full, but then where does it lead?
Joe Romero brought water for our cistern,
ran a body shop in Albuquerque for 25 years
with the build and the tattoos to prove it,
native Los Lunan with the blue eyes of the Spanish conquerors. ... This is all irrelevant
Next morning a barista in Angel Fire
made me a chai tea latte, complimented
my hat and I felt like I’d been kissed:
just an old man enthralled by the young. .... I like the last two lines, but it (the verse) seems lacking in context.
The lonely sound of late afternoon wind through the mountainside trees,
all the angels live in the valley below. ... Second variation on 'loneliness. Does it matter where the townspeople live?
A good third day, but a reckoning had to come. ... by what measure is it 'a good day' and why is a 'reckoning' inevitable? Is this some play with 'outlaw'?
Inside the cabin, after sunset,
I am besieged by a hundred triggers, ghosts of the hundred nights we spent here over 40 years.
I’m alone, our son is gone, everthing about this is wrong. ... So, finally you get to the point! I think you could polish this into something better.
Bats at sunset
dog howls at night jet overhead
some kind of june bug drives me in from the porch. ... the stanza before it was after sunset and N was inside, now it's at sunset and N is being driven inside. ¿Qué pasa?
I'll stop here, partly because this is basic, but mainly because nothing else happens.
And now for the liberty taking.
after sunset, a hundred ghosts
one for every night we spent
here. I'm alone
our son is gone.
Everything is wrong.
For me, this, or something like it is the poem. The rest is just distraction.
Or if you wanted a slightly longer version
that first day I drove
from the hills of South Texas
to the Panhandle's Comanche plain
Stopped in ________
another beat down motel town,
another sleepless night
with the Bhagavad Gita
and the Bible
in a bedside drawer
another early start
a barista in Angel Fire
complimented my hat
I felt like I’d been kissed:
but I'm an old man
enthralled by the young.
heading to the mountains
and our cabin
at Sangre de Christo
after sunset, a hundred ghosts
came, one for every night we spent
here. I'm alone
the sky is full of stars
our son is gone.
Everything is wrong.
Best, Knot
.
Hi TqB.
(A not too mild and immoderate critique).
It's a bit confused, to me and I can't tell who the audience might be. Perhaps someone who knows who Joe Romero and Sasha (no last name) are? I assumed Sasha was a male friend, but ... (not a clue).
If it's supposed to be a series of journal entries, then maybe put a bit of effort into making that form consistent across the piece.
What is 'night jet' S7? I liked dogs howling at it, but ... (not a clue).
Mountain Sojourn ... not an engaging title
I drove 500 miles that first day ... the first use of 'first' in the poem. And a nod to the Proclaimers ?
from the hills of South Texas .... I know you like long lines but breaking here gives you (the reader) a space to contemplate where N has left and where they are going (and why).
to the Comanche plains of the Panhandle .... I'd also break here, allowing for the space N has travelled to the hotel room. (any modifier for the 'hills' to pair with 'Comanche plains'?)
lodged in a dismal beaten down hotel room ... can't see a beaten down hotel room being anything other than dismal (maybe stopped in a beat down motel room?)
Bhagavad Gita along with Bible in bedside drawer ... like the sonics of Bhagavad Gita after 'beat/en down' but both that and the bible seem odd (and slightly more upscale than has been suggested)
ate terrible Thai food ... so what? A detail that adds nothing
shot out of there like a cannon shell ... a simile that adds nothing (no explanation for why N might be hurrying)
at dawn next morning
I think you could rework this section (and the above)
After a sleepless night (not a serious suggestion, but a place to start)
in a dismal beat down motel room
with the Bhagavad Gita and Bible
in the bedside drawer
another early start
through the Kiowa grasslands, gentle sea of grass ... 'grasslands' then 'sea of grass' ? Really?
into New Mexico and loneliness ... nice line, and a good place to break.
like an escaped outlaw.
But outlaws are confused by freedom
like the shepherd puppy
who met me at the cabin
with barks and jumps and uncertainty
as I settled into my Sangre de Christo hideout. ... this is all pretty pedestrian, and the 'escaped outlaw' idea seems nothing but a distraction. It takes far too long to get to the 'turning myself in' payoff.
I think some detail, for the reader, of just where N is, and what the S de C hideout might actually be.
The first morning, I had three ravens on the deck rail. ... 'there were' for 'I had'? I like the line, ominous and omen full, but then where does it lead?
Joe Romero brought water for our cistern,
ran a body shop in Albuquerque for 25 years
with the build and the tattoos to prove it,
native Los Lunan with the blue eyes of the Spanish conquerors. ... This is all irrelevant
Next morning a barista in Angel Fire
made me a chai tea latte, complimented
my hat and I felt like I’d been kissed:
just an old man enthralled by the young. .... I like the last two lines, but it (the verse) seems lacking in context.
The lonely sound of late afternoon wind through the mountainside trees,
all the angels live in the valley below. ... Second variation on 'loneliness. Does it matter where the townspeople live?
A good third day, but a reckoning had to come. ... by what measure is it 'a good day' and why is a 'reckoning' inevitable? Is this some play with 'outlaw'?
Inside the cabin, after sunset,
I am besieged by a hundred triggers, ghosts of the hundred nights we spent here over 40 years.
I’m alone, our son is gone, everthing about this is wrong. ... So, finally you get to the point! I think you could polish this into something better.
Bats at sunset
dog howls at night jet overhead
some kind of june bug drives me in from the porch. ... the stanza before it was after sunset and N was inside, now it's at sunset and N is being driven inside. ¿Qué pasa?
I'll stop here, partly because this is basic, but mainly because nothing else happens.
And now for the liberty taking.
after sunset, a hundred ghosts
one for every night we spent
here. I'm alone
our son is gone.
Everything is wrong.
For me, this, or something like it is the poem. The rest is just distraction.
Or if you wanted a slightly longer version
that first day I drove
from the hills of South Texas
to the Panhandle's Comanche plain
Stopped in ________
another beat down motel town,
another sleepless night
with the Bhagavad Gita
and the Bible
in a bedside drawer
another early start
a barista in Angel Fire
complimented my hat
I felt like I’d been kissed:
but I'm an old man
enthralled by the young.
heading to the mountains
and our cabin
at Sangre de Christo
after sunset, a hundred ghosts
came, one for every night we spent
here. I'm alone
the sky is full of stars
our son is gone.
Everything is wrong.
Best, Knot
.