Published November 25, 2009
and you can see the thunderheads across the valley,
tall and white, like approaching chess pieces, and the air smells
of electrocution, and three generations of men struck by lightning.
gray sweeps and meadows of desert grass, pigmentless, jointed,
marking where a pair of horses came through, and shivering
like the touched skin of an unwilling woman.
the bruised early morning, collars up to the chin and the grainy coffee
from breakfast hot and central in their bellies, and every sound amplified
in the chapel of pre-dawn – their footsteps, their breath, their thoughts.
they step into the back of the truck, one by one, and hunch against
the wheelwells, hands in their pockets, their knuckles white. the diesel
engine scrounges to life, stubbed gears, bleeding oil, like some
medieval patient. the stars are still out and they pass under them
and they all look up. galaxies spread like wedding trains. gaseous, knitted,
and the crooked moon shepherding them. the men close their eyes and
feel the cords of wind across their face and the baptism of starlight,
and then they pass around a smoke, each one sipping from it reverently and
looking into the void, as if they were sealing a covenant with the god
of the stars and the wind and the dawn.
they pull into the railroad camp, and all the faces of the workers are pious
and hidden in the dark like confessors. as the foreman watches and
the engines cough and baffle and the men swing their hammers,
reddened with friction and dawn.
the railroadsong starts up low
and soft.
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im not very talented at extracting deeper meaning from poems, so naturally I had a hard time understanding what this poem is supposed to be telling me. but that is the only problem I had with it, because other than that, I loved it. the language was wonderfully poetic, and the imagery was vivid and established the tone of the poem very well. overall I really really liked it. thanks for the good read
Hi there Kylan! I don't think I've ever reviewed something of yours before (totally wasn't intimidated or anything silly like that...).
I think you should capitalize your sentences. That's a pet peave of mine, but I have noticed that a lot of poets don't capitalize. You also lack rhythm; it's a railroadsong, after all. I just think it detracts from your otherwise perfect poem.
I like how this created an image in my head, even though you barely touched upon the scenary. That's something you don't see a lot - imagery without sight. It's refreshing to read.
I also found it interesting how you started the poem. As if this is only the middle of a poem, without the beginning. I don't think I can put into words why I enjoyed reading that, but I'll be stubborn and try anyway. There's something oddly familiar and almost comfortable about the way this started out. As if you're talking to an old friend and don't need to waste time on the introduction.
I enjoyed your interesting metaphors as well. Thank you for ending my two month long apathy towards poetry. I think I just rediscovered why I love it.
Elinor Brynn: Do not critique works when you have no idea what you're talking about. Learn how to review and how to analyze poetry.
Kylan: This would be impressive if it came from a first-time poet, but from you, no. I will go through this when I have time, hopefully very soon.
I only have two nitpicks
I'm not so sure about starting a sentence with 'and'. If you want to keep the 'and', id recommend adding 'all' after and, as well saw 'are' after thunderheads.
In addition, there are no capital letters in your story. In poetry, you're supposed to capitalize the beginning word of every line, but you dont even captalize the first word of a sentece. :-/
Keep writing,
El.
PM me if you have questions.
I agree with Gahks. I wish I could critique this, but I'm a huge fan of your poetry, Kylan, and I found this beautiful. And I also found out that you can star pieces on YWS again! So! I added another star to your collection. I'm beginning to understand your poetry a lot more than I did before, and I absolutely loved it. The first stanza is probably my favorite because of the way you worded it. It's sing-songy in a way that's not sing-songy at all, and it hits a certain chord with my ears.
I'm lovin' it.
-Jared
Excellent work, Kylan. It's so refreshing to read a poem from this site every once in a while that touches you in a way that no other poem could. It's powerful stuff, and I wouldn't change a thing. =)
*stars*
Take care now,
Gahks
Wow. I gotta say thats the best poem i've read so far in all my time as a member of the site (although it hasn't been very long). I enjoyed especially:
and three generations of men struck by lightning.
the bruised early morning, collars up to the chin and the grainy coffee
from breakfast hot and central in their bellies, and every sound amplified
in the chapel of pre-dawn.
galaxies spread like wedding trains.
Also, I think the ending was very good.
You sir, have captured that spirit of the west kerouac was talkig about.