Hi Leanne,
I need to give this one some more thought. I need to work through it some more first.
Hi Leanne,
This took some time and I'm sure that I'm missing quite a bit. Hopefully, this ramble of a critique will be helpful to you.
Beasts of Burden--when I consider the title after reading the poem, I am struck by the fact that it is plural not simply beast which points toward the transformation alluded to at the ending. We assume that the camel carries the speaker but the question is what is the speaker's burden.
My friend the camel learned to fly in the wasteland. He --I just know I'm missing things here. The camel is seen as a friend not just a dumb animal. I like learned to fly in the wasteland. You can envision him tearing across the waste. By breaking on he you give the sense of the movement occurring much better than ending on a full stop.
was golden with water dreams, but pockmarked --golden with water dreams is lovely by adding that he's pockmarked this moves away from a fantasy and into a situation where all is not perfect.
from the toes down and across his unshadowed page. --from the toes down where he makes actual contact with the land fanciful flying aside. I took the unshadowed page to be the barren emptiness of the sand stretching out in front of him. It's as if his steps are writing communicating that he is here.
I didn’t know how to drink without a tongue and he --I read this more of a swollen dehydrated tongue though nothing forbids it from being removed.
had forgotten how to be a cup. --good phrasing. I take this to mean that the camel's reserves in the fatty tissue of his hump are deleted. He would in no way be a cup for the speaker, but he can't even be one for himself.
We learned in grey and salt. He would stamp on my spit --I'm not sure what the gray is maybe the phrase is an evocative way of saying that the speaker tried to reuse sweat and saliva. I like your s sounds here
until it ran greening into parchment cracks or
– slitherwise as the taipan –
tricked the grass into bloom. --These three lines are some of my absolute favorites. You have the desperation of watching life giving moisture slip into parchment cracks(great words) I love slitherwise joining the words gives a sibilance that yes mirrors the taipan snake which yes will kill you like losing any moisture here will. And then in painful irony it tricks the grass into blooming into a non-sustainable life. Can't say enough about this sequence.
I watched him hollow, stretch, thin, sway,
muddy and cough. Sunsets tripped over his brow,
worn now to wax-bright whispering. --again gorgeous writing. The camel is dying I think. The sequence of words work. The sunsets line show both his age and the passage of time--I love it, and wax-bright whispering like a candle burning down is just awesome.
I found wings on the redgum’s bank, fluttering
out of waterlily reach. I frightened them, but he was close
behind to soothe. They tapped his shoulders and he smiled
his last drink for me. --until I keyed on the word bank I was leaning toward the speaker's death, but I take the redgum for a river. Beautiful ending
Nothing really popped out as nits to me. Mostly, I hope these comments will help you see if you got what you were going for.
Best,
Todd
Oh, and back to the title beasts seems to be about what having to survive reduces and elevates us to.
I need to give this one some more thought. I need to work through it some more first.
Hi Leanne,
This took some time and I'm sure that I'm missing quite a bit. Hopefully, this ramble of a critique will be helpful to you.
Beasts of Burden--when I consider the title after reading the poem, I am struck by the fact that it is plural not simply beast which points toward the transformation alluded to at the ending. We assume that the camel carries the speaker but the question is what is the speaker's burden.
My friend the camel learned to fly in the wasteland. He --I just know I'm missing things here. The camel is seen as a friend not just a dumb animal. I like learned to fly in the wasteland. You can envision him tearing across the waste. By breaking on he you give the sense of the movement occurring much better than ending on a full stop.
was golden with water dreams, but pockmarked --golden with water dreams is lovely by adding that he's pockmarked this moves away from a fantasy and into a situation where all is not perfect.
from the toes down and across his unshadowed page. --from the toes down where he makes actual contact with the land fanciful flying aside. I took the unshadowed page to be the barren emptiness of the sand stretching out in front of him. It's as if his steps are writing communicating that he is here.
I didn’t know how to drink without a tongue and he --I read this more of a swollen dehydrated tongue though nothing forbids it from being removed.
had forgotten how to be a cup. --good phrasing. I take this to mean that the camel's reserves in the fatty tissue of his hump are deleted. He would in no way be a cup for the speaker, but he can't even be one for himself.
We learned in grey and salt. He would stamp on my spit --I'm not sure what the gray is maybe the phrase is an evocative way of saying that the speaker tried to reuse sweat and saliva. I like your s sounds here
until it ran greening into parchment cracks or
– slitherwise as the taipan –
tricked the grass into bloom. --These three lines are some of my absolute favorites. You have the desperation of watching life giving moisture slip into parchment cracks(great words) I love slitherwise joining the words gives a sibilance that yes mirrors the taipan snake which yes will kill you like losing any moisture here will. And then in painful irony it tricks the grass into blooming into a non-sustainable life. Can't say enough about this sequence.
I watched him hollow, stretch, thin, sway,
muddy and cough. Sunsets tripped over his brow,
worn now to wax-bright whispering. --again gorgeous writing. The camel is dying I think. The sequence of words work. The sunsets line show both his age and the passage of time--I love it, and wax-bright whispering like a candle burning down is just awesome.
I found wings on the redgum’s bank, fluttering
out of waterlily reach. I frightened them, but he was close
behind to soothe. They tapped his shoulders and he smiled
his last drink for me. --until I keyed on the word bank I was leaning toward the speaker's death, but I take the redgum for a river. Beautiful ending
Nothing really popped out as nits to me. Mostly, I hope these comments will help you see if you got what you were going for.
Best,
Todd
Oh, and back to the title beasts seems to be about what having to survive reduces and elevates us to.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson