Deep Breath (Revision)

[Lawrence]

Inhaling Exhaling



This is inhalation.

Think of a red balloon expanding.
Clouds sopping up light like paper towels
You in the cornfields with a scythe, at dawn;
Boys going from bush to bush, picking blueberries
As your father watches, taking his first cigarette drag.

Suspense thrives here.
The murderer is still hidden,
Knife in hand, behind the door
And our heroine is not at all aware.
The magician hasn’t pulled his rabbit,
I’m about to put out my birthday candles,
A boy has picked a dandelion, wanting his wish.

This is the stock market booming
The roller-coaster creeping up an incline
You in the woods, loading your hunting rifle
As mosquitoes buzz above, blood-straws brandished-
Your silence, and impatience with them and the noon sun.

This is exhalation.

Here, you’re cooling off your scolding hot spaghetti.
Someone has just told a joke about two rabbis.
Waves on the shoreline. Seagulls quarreling
As you let fog onto your sunglasses.
Now, your father puffs smoke rings
On the patio, and your boys
Have long been in bed.

The dark cinema erupts in horrified shouts
As the murderer emerges with a burst
And our heroine is taken by surprise.
You can here choirs singing,
The incantations of monks,
Men blowing on hands
Against street-posts.

This is the gunshot: The deer gurgling blood
And dying, your bullet resting in its rib.
This is the last sailboat leaving port,
Dandelion-seeds afloat in the wind
And the tears of a cheated boy.
Here, you’re on your porch,
An old man, thinking back
To blueberry picking-
Memory floods out
In a sigh.

[billy]

at this point i will only say i enjoyed it, i'll have to dig around for the earlier version to compare them so that i can give
some real feedback.

[Todd]

Hi Lawrence,

I'll give you some comments here. I'm not going to search out the original; I think I remember it well enough. Hopefully, I don't contradict myself from earlier versions.

I like some of this a lot. My one complaint is that in some cases you have great imagery that doesn't quite fit this poem in my opinion. Let's go to the lines:

Inhaling Exhaling



This is inhalation.

Think of a red balloon expanding.
Clouds sopping up light like paper towels--great image though doesn't seem to express inhalation to me. If this were a storm cloud with the ozone humming maybe but there isn't going to be an eruption of light (it doesn't really fit for me)
You in the cornfields with a scythe, at dawn;--good
Boys going from bush to bush, picking blueberries--this also doesn't fit the build up waiting for the explosion feel of inhalation to me
As your father watches, taking his first cigarette drag.--almost feel like you should add morning after first to avoid us thinking it's his first ever cigareete

Suspense thrives here.
The murderer is still hidden,
Knife in hand, behind the door
And our heroine is not at all aware.
The magician hasn’t pulled his rabbit,
I’m about to put out my birthday candles,
A boy has picked a dandelion, wanting his wish.--This remains excellent all of it

This is the stock market booming--This says more exhallation to me than inhallation
The roller-coaster creeping up an incline--love this
You in the woods, loading your hunting rifle--and this. These last two images have the promise of motion, of release whereas the stock market already has motion
As mosquitoes buzz above, blood-straws brandished---I love love love blood-straws. I don't really like brandised
Your silence, and impatience with them and the noon sun.--not a real fan of this line

This is exhalation.

Here, you’re cooling off your scolding hot spaghetti.
Someone has just told a joke about two rabbis.
Waves on the shoreline. Seagulls quarreling
As you let fog onto your sunglasses.
Now, your father puffs smoke rings
On the patio, and your boys--there's a lot of ambiquity for me on the you and your in this poem. I would maybe shift this to "the boys"
Have long been in bed.

The dark cinema erupts in horrified shouts
As the murderer emerges with a burst--maybe in a burst
And our heroine is taken by surprise.
You can here choirs singing,
The incantations of monks,
Men blowing on hands
Against street-posts.--maybe leaning against street posts

This is the gunshot: The deer gurgling blood--great line
And dying, your bullet resting in its rib.--and dying feels unnecessary
This is the last sailboat leaving port,
Dandelion-seeds afloat in the wind
And the tears of a cheated boy.--not sure I'm getting this
Here, you’re on your porch,
An old man, thinking back--maybe reminiscene instead of thinking back
To blueberry picking---I realize there's a tie in with the earlier line but I don't think this is necessary
Memory floods out
In a sigh.--love the last two lines

I hope some of that was helpful Lawrence.

Best,

Todd

[Lawrence]

Thanks. I'll get to work.

[billy]

Inhaling Exhaling



This is inhalation.

Think of a red balloon expanding.
Clouds sopping up light like paper towels
You in the cornfields with a scythe, at dawn;
Boys going from bush to bush, picking blueberries
As your father watches, taking his first cigarette drag.

in this verse i'd use only the last line and tack it onto the end of the
1st verse in the last edit, i'd use todd's suggestion except use it by adding
'of the morning' to make the length work

Suspense thrives here.
The murderer is still hidden,
Knife in hand, behind the door
And our heroine is not at all aware.
The magician hasn’t pulled his rabbit,
I’m about to put out my birthday candles,
A boy has picked a dandelion, wanting his wish.
this works well

This is the stock market booming
The roller-coaster creeping up an incline
You in the woods, loading your hunting rifle
As mosquitoes buzz above, blood-straws brandished-
Your silence, and impatience with them and the noon sun.
[/b]i much prefer the verse in the last edit to this one
i prefer the imagery of the opposing mirrors, they give me a
feel of lungs [/b]

This is exhalation.

Here, you’re cooling off your scolding hot spaghetti.
Someone has just told a joke about two rabbis.
Waves on the shoreline. Seagulls quarreling two ll's in quarrelling. Dawn work better for me again it feel like dawn is the beginning of exhale, it has some connection.
As you let fog onto your sunglasses.
Now, your father puffs smoke rings [is now needed?]
On the patio, and your boys
Have long been in bed.

The dark cinema erupts in horrified shouts
As the murderer emerges with a burst
And our heroine is taken by surprise.
You can here choirs singing,
The incantations of monks,
Men blowing on hands
Against street-posts. this line need something, 'backs' maybe, i don't know but as it it feels stranded on it's own.

This is the gunshot: The deer gurgling blood
And dying, your bullet resting in its rib.[is and needed]
This is the last sailboat leaving port,
Dandelion-seeds afloat in the wind
And the tears of a cheated boy.
Here, you’re on your porch,
An old man, thinking back
To blueberry picking-
Memory floods out
In a sigh.
the last verse for me is spot on

the inhale looking at what is, the exhale are the later years in his life.

i really like this one lawrence, i think if you go too far you'll kill the essence of what the poem is. some good images. though what we're getting now is a mishmash of images from the last edit and this one.
i think in places (like the 1st verse) you went a tad to far if it were me i'd ease back and take a good hard look at how good it was and try not to change it too much. all jmo of course.
thanks for the read.