beta physics

by embers

Published August 20, 2012

i.
the rain wrapped impatience around your roof,
bored through the wood like a thousand million termites
(or one you-sized termite, blind, breathless)
and seeped from the cold clockwork like battery acid.
 
ii.
you lived in a widow's closet - 
 
a house swarmed with antiques
that collapsed in their own gravity
and combusted -
 
and then you lived in widow's charcoal.
 
iii.
"galaxies are either lovers or termites," she mused.
 
(earlier, her fingernails had clawed into my back
Hubble's thousand million stars, all drops of acid
branding my spine.)
 
"they are drawn to each other for years
and in an instant, once together,
eat themselves alive."
Comments & reviews · 2
User avatar
Lumi
Review
Lumi wrote a review Review · Aug 21, 2012

I don’t think you’ll mind if I cut to a few chases here. You have a very clear, personal style, and I’m quite fond of it. So let’s keep this in mind while we talk about it. Also, note that I acknowledge that a division of a poem into parts i/ii/iii distinguishes them from each other as separate entities, but the idea is to ultimately feed them into a whole being. Sort of a trinity idea, here. So that’s what I’m going to pick at a lot.

The imagery in part one is fantastic—you weave in and out of ideas and images fluidly without trying too hard (which is pretty easy to mess up on)—and you set a premise for a great piece. However, the premise doesn’t evolve beyond being in and of itself—a premise. The main divisor in this entire piece is the PoV change: Second, Second, First. So when I read through this, there’s a distinct disconnect between i/ii and iii. So you establish the image of the termites—I take that and connect it to part three where you revisit the idea. So, in a way, the ‘you’ in part one and the ‘she’ in part three can be connected in my head, but it’s annoying to do so since there’s a change in name.

To be perfectly honest, or imperfectly honest—I’m unsure how it applies—I’m not too taken with line i.1. The establishment of rain is necessary for the remainder of the stanza, but the impatience bugs me. I keep trying to connect it to something else, keep trying to make it mean something more than itself, but it just isn’t there. I think you have room in that line to, instead, establish a connected motif to draw in more elaborate ideas. Other than that, the line isn’t too great on flow compared to the remainder of the piece. Granted, impatience is just a clunky word on its own.

Part two establishes another great premise, even gives more life to the whole of ‘you’ as a character, but doesn’t do much else. You give a nice flavor of fire here—in contrast to the introduction of rainwater/acid/termites before. I’m curious about the inconsistency of the article before ‘widow’ in both cases: first, you give the article to pass the widow as a normal noun, and later, you exempt the article, making her proper. Maybe accidental, but it’s an idea that I like as far as the evolution of a person in a piece overall—so I’m noting this as a technique for later, mostly for me. I’m greedy like that, so forgive me. Either way, unless you intended to construct it like this (for which there isn’t much reason), I’d equalize the terms.

So you have fire, a sort of cremation of the past, possibly the cremation of the widow (bonus points for death+death=death), and the introduction of the space motif in the form of gravity. Of all three, I’m least fond of part two simply for the lack of brilliant images you have elsewhere in the piece. That’s not a necessary note, so don’t pay too much mind to that.

Part three is my favorite for the lyrical aspects—you stop building this segregated narrative and zoom in on the ideas in her (the you’s) head. Ultimately, you wrap up your imagery nicely and close off the ideas you’ve woven together pretty tightly, though I can’t say that I’m perfectly satisfied with the amount they were explored. That’s not to say I want more—it doesn’t matter either way. But to open a fresh idea as the termites that are you that are stars that are acid, it seems unfair not to spell that into a being that the reader can take with them after the party’s over. With that said, I’m incredibly fond of the tightness of part three.

The lyrical dialogue in the end—the final stanza—is my personal favorite. The image, the idea. It’s very tight, very real. So lots of points for that. For the most part, your flow is fantastic, your images are smooth and vivid. The main thing I’m interested in is your reason for dividing this into three parts. With the connected nuances—though not completely connected—it feels almost like you were afraid of the transition areas to get these pieces to connect fluidly, so you just chopped the piece up into three limbs. While that’s fine, I think it’d be a nice exercise in connectivity to explore the areas between.

Let me know if you have any questions.

-Ty

User avatar
jaani Comment
jaani commented Comment · Aug 20, 2012

i love this poem of yours it's amazing. <3

embers replied · Aug 21, 2012

haha, thank you. <3



No great thing is created suddenly. There must be time. Give your best and always be kind.
— Epictetus