Beautifully put, Nemo. I agree that a sense of the outside would benefit this poem, and it doesn’t, of course, have to be a Petrarchan sonnet. I didn’t set out to write one, but the rhymes started falling into place, and the size helped me concentrate. I certainly don’t want to write metrical exercises, but neither do I want my form vanishing into the poem, though I’ve realized that many here consider it a sign of high flying. I like my form palpable. Best, of course, if it’s expressive of the content, as I hope the anapests are here. Thanks again, Nemo. Much to think about as I drowse off tonight.

I just ran across a wonderfully apt quote from 1908. T. E. Hulme, an early theorist of modernism, is arguing against just what I was trying to do in this poem:

“The effect of rhythm, like that of music, is to produce a kind of hypnotic state, during which suggestions of grief or ecstasy are easily and powerfully effective, just as when we are drunk all jokes seem funny. This is for the art of chanting, but the procedure of the new visual art is just the contrary. It depends for its effect not on a kind of half sleep produced, but on arresting the attention, so much so that the succession of visual images should exhaust one. Regular metre to this impressionist poetry is cramping, jangling, meaningless, and out of place.”

An even apter quote from Yeats:

“The purpose of rhythm, it has always seemed to me, is to prolong the moment of contemplation, the moment when we are both asleep and awake.”

Carl, I think the reason Nemo compared this poem to a metrical exercise is that you make the rhythm too regular. Hypnotic is not what a poem should be. Instead, it should be musical. When writing anapestic verse, you need to throw some pauses and some iambs into the mix so that you don't rock the reader to sleep, too. I notice that you put a few iambs at the start of lines, but you would be surprised at how many iambs you can put into anapestic verse and still have it feel anapestic. The trick is to put the iambs into different locations in successive lines, so that the reader can't predict the pattern. I like the idea of this poem, and much of the language, but the rhythm bores me.

Susan

Thanks, Susan. I’ve set out on several occasions to do loose anapestic, but only pulled it off once. I always surrender eventually to the regular undertow and find it easier to go with the flow. It would do me good to work more on resisting that pull, so your advice is well taken, but in this case I did want to rock and lull the reader, to chant the clacks. I personally get off on poems with a mesmerizing beat (“The Destruction of Sennacherib,” for one), but I certainly didn’t want to bore anyone, so I may have gone too far …

Make mine a vote for Mesmer and a mouthful of lotus.

I well remember the pleasant stupor train travel can induce.

Unlike Susan I feel that you have enough variation to mimic the irregularities attendant on a subtly decaying transport system.

I appreciate your support for Herr Doktor Mesmer, Jan. He’s not held in high regard these days, but a “pleasant stupor” is just the effect I would have hoped for.