and the new day moths flutter like gracenotes, taxidermied
by the little pins of evening light, and we still flinch inadvertently
at the leftover church sermon, the prayers still chapping our lips. this late
in the summer, the tallgrass is dry and muzzling, whispering cradlesongs, their
wheat-heads pinching the sunlight, and the wildflowers turn
away and dry, like milkless mothers. you sit on the porch
reading from the bible, not outloud, but under your breath,
about lot's wife, and sodom and gomorrah, and I can see that your
freckles are coming out again, a test positive for
the upcoming thrum of deepest summer.
teapot shadows, and the old fruit clinging to the trees like suckups
leaking, shriveling, dislocated, their pits dropping like genitalia. the day
push-peddles its final stitches of light, the final appliqué
of shadow and glow, the final inseamed embroidery, as sounds of
children screaming and laughing come from down the street,
and the thunderheads anvil on the horizon, white and huge and
faraway, like the memory of mother baking in the kitchen,
the flour a laughing gas around her, slamming her knuckles into
great upset stomachs of dough, and singing, singing
dad brings out the hand-cranked ice cream maker, and we take turns
stirring it. we pour rock salt on the ice to make it colder, and you
smile and say that these might be chippings from lot's wife's hip
cooling our ice cream, that slops and slurs inside its metal capsule.
the mourning doves reckon and sigh, mother's blossoms nod in their
snoring pews, and the cows in thresher's field call to each other incessantly,
a frantic pastoral echolocation, as the sun slopes and you close your bible,
and come help me pick blackberries for the ice cream, red and sore and secret as
girls maturing, plinking into our tin bowls –
the true sound of summer rain.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
Okay, review.
I'm going to say I greatly, greatly enjoyed that. This piece, compared to all the pieces you posted over the last little while really shines. The subtle imagery is so delicate and I thank you for creating a work I can really appreciate.
But compliments never helped much:
So, you use dry twice in the same section. Also, the reference to the mothers, I found the image to be well searched and really nice but not linked as smoothly as I would hope. It just sticks out a little, like the threads at are pulled out of wool sweaters. You don't see them when you look over the sweater quickly, but when you take the time to iron and wash the sweater, you notice it.
I didn't like this very much. The imagery you have in this is a little thicker, not as delicate and subtle.
Shriveling, dislocated, suckups. All those words have a little bit of, what's the word, gloominess? to them. While beautiful language you use in the first stanza, like gracenotes, muzzling, wheat-heads is all very light.
I see that the words you use in the second stanza has a bit more of an slight roughness to them, but it remains subtle, and once again that line sticks out like the threads of your sweater.
I feel there should be some sort of punctuation to indicate a pause after a flour. Or cut the 'a' between flour and laughing.
Also, instead of stomachs, I think it should just be singular. Upset stomachs creates something like assonance, but it's not a nice sound to repeat, almost like hissing. As well as the fact that when you make dough, its one big ball, not several so it would make a little more sense (to me at least) if it were, "great upset stomach of dough"
Otherwise, I love the imagery.
Just a lovely way to close off but, one little thing:
I'm not sure about the 'as' though it is a simile, I'm thinking like would be more effective and make for sense.
Thank you for posting this, all the best.
Kamas
I'll review this later. If I don't smack me over the head with something.
Welcome back.
Hey there Kylan!
I have to say, I adored this poem! To be perfectly honest, I can't really find any negative points to say about it. Like others have said, your use of imaginary is amazing! I have no idea how you do it! If I could write like this, I'd be pretty darn happy.
I actually agree with Peanut when it comes to your stanzas being disjointed! I don't think they were disjointed at all really. I can understand where the others are coming from, but if you ask me, there's nothing wrong with the connections between stanzas.
Overall, I loved your poem. It's full of imaginary and the content is simple, but at the same time, effective. I'm looking forward to reading more of your work!
Keep writing,
xoxo Skins
Do you live for the summer? I remember some of your summer poetry from last year, Kylan, and you SHINE here. I believe that last year I also cautioned us both that it might be from my own longing for the bright summer sun, but it's so refreshing and full of life compared to some of the dusty, dirt road poetry you write. :3 That's not to say faded is not as inspiring as this, but I love this.
Except, I didn't love all of it. Some of the phrases were jewels that made me grin, but I found myself skimming through a lot of it. Reading back through it, some of it I probably shouldn't have skipped. Chalk some of this up to my lack of attention. But let me first save the phrases I loved the best.
I love the way you play with language.
And the way you use certain phrases to paint the rest of the stanza. The image of thunderheads lends to the image of the bread rising like a blooming cloud.
And this was just exquisite, Kylan. Really, especially the last line, and 'pastoral echolocation'. It's brilliant. But the rest really bogs it down. Some things that I didn't think worked as well were:
I don't know what it is. It can't be that I don't like the comparison to motherhood and genitalia in general, because I loved that one point about the milky way in your other piece, but some of these comparisons are just getting run down and inappropriate. Not in the 'omg u sed that?' way, but in the way that I think you can explore other avenues instead of always treading down the same ones.
Also, I thought the characterization was hidden. I saw some of it coming out, but the fact was that the summer feeling overshadowed it and made me skip the parts about the person and the people. In fact, I mostly wanted to skip the parts that were exclusively about the plants as well. I loved, in this poem, the points when it touched on the relationship between the people and the objects, mixing to make the rhythm of summer.
Having said that, you think I would like this stanza:
But though I felt like the idea was interesting and a good relation to the religion you've injected into this poem, it just didn't seem necessary. I think it was because of the way I read the poem and what I was looking for.
I'm sorry that I can't be more helpful, because a lot of my criticism relies on the intentions you had with this poem. If I'm missing YOUR point, disregard it, but know that you make brilliant phrases and I am looking forward to your summer poetry!
Love! PM me if you have any questions or anything.
-Hannah-
Your imagery never ceases to amaze me. The way you describe things is like nothing I've seen or have ever thought to describe something. I really don't have anything bad to say about this. I didn't think the stanzas were disjointed. I found connections in them all that linked them together. I think you did that on purpose
Good job, as always.
~peanut~
Hi Kylan!
This was a nice poem. I love your vivid yet simple imagery, and the lovely way I felt after reading this poem. It was refreshing, and I love the way you can narrate such simple events and make them seem exciting.
One thing I would comment on is that your verses seem kind of disjointed, but somehow not, like separate movements of a song or poem. Maybe you might want to make note of that?
Overall, it was great work like always. Keep it up, and PM me if you have any questions or concerns.
-Elinor