Cameron, I think you get lost in special FX (after Sarah). Phrasing is something more fundamental.

Stunning poem, Cameron. I know something’s really good when I’m jealous and I’m jealous. Such striking images and movement here. An immense energy that I admire. I had the same issues as Julie and Mark with King Lear, but that’s fixed and I love the other changes you’ve made with the revision. “reigns after rain” may be a bit of a risk, imo, but I must say that I think you’ve pulled it off. It’s nicely set up, woven pretty tightly into the poem. Memorable work.

Minor revisions posted
 

My thanks, deep and long, Yves, Mark, John, Jim, Carl, and Nemo.

Mark: I took no insult from your words; and I understand you. What I mean is that at the heart of King Lear is a kind of apocalyptic vitalism that escapes everything that we might call "poetic", or "story", or "literature" and has the kind of reality as something so simple and natural and strange and alien and real as a flower. That is what I want to write; too often we reduce poetry in my opinion to a matter of chess-moves, to technique, or patterns, or steps; and that is true: and techné is suprreme: but ultimately I think there is something in poetry (and my word poetry as expansive enough to contain novels) that goes beyond the simple matters of moves and technique, that are the total requirements of even master chess-players; there is something that lifts a rare poetry beyond chess or any other form of game and hobby: and can make it as natural and strange as a flower. I am of course no where near that: but that is the direction in which I strain. It is mysterious and really unexplainable. I have done enough poetic exercises to know that there are some parts of Shakespeare we cannot explain. So to with Dickinson, Kafka, others.

Nemo:
"Weathered things, weathered beings, have a grave translucence that calls into question all that presumes to be concrete."
That is beautiful and true: thank you.

John: I am honored myself that this met with your approval. Your reading is exacting: you have me open before you like a book.

Carl: I'll look to see if now I hear it like you do. I am not sure I do but I will keep listening. You are a keen listener and I respect very much your ears. For me: it is stretched, but the strength of the stress still keeps three lesser sounds. I have done a new similar foot in a line I have revised.

Yves: What you say are special effects I think of as a desperate attempt to represent the unsayable. Probably: I stumble. Still, I do not quite reverence these SFX you believe in, yet; feel free to come back with specifics and I will see if I become a believer. Until then: I'll keep checking them. Not all poems should be loaded; to be plain is baroque in its own way. I want more plainness. Even Dickinson, though, stooped. (Who is this Sarah? I know too many)

I am so glad you like it Jim. I am addicted to puns. They are minor; but they still strike out sparks. I'm very happy you thought these sparks were appropriate.

Honestly Cameron, I think it would do you the world of good to write a play that is stages and with words the actors have to sell to the audience within the arc of a dram. I think it would balance you out. But, yeah, yeah. disclaimers, disclaimers, do what you want.

Honestly, Yves: I have always wanted to. Thanks, for the spur.

Hello Cameron,

I had another look at this, and I do think your strongest phrasings (which were really rather good) where when you were riffing off the rain motif:

[1] I know I am not the rain bluffing at form
[2] as if I'm a blank that the rain can't define/ since nothing makes nothing:
[3] to sing the aloneness that reigns after rain

These lines form their own coherent mini song, and I suppose that I would want the other threads to also be as standout and coherent. For example for [1] I could instantly see the image you were talking about: it was a common observation freshly phrased.

Yeah!