Westward Trends
 

Maps and Revelations
                 (revised text in blue)


Dawn breaks. The Colorado carves its way
Through canyon walls into the early light.
Positioned near the edge, it’s breakfast time.
My route delineates zigzags on the map,
While condors inscribe portents in the sky,
Tracing patterns changing with the wind.

The blind curve swerves into the gritty wind
And mocks this route I’ve plotted as the way,
As a rust-gnawed guardrail riding void and sky
Makes my knuckles blanch in bright sunlight,
Beyond the comfort of the dog-eared map—
With vertigo—I hope it’s the last time.

The antique mission bells now warp with time
Where adobe walls dissolve into the wind,
With newfound legends I need to remap—
Of pilgrims who once blessed this sundered way,
Their candles flickering with a leaden light,
To hymns through land expanse vast as the sky.

Now the Rio Grande sprawls beneath the sky,
Its waters grinding at the teeth of time.
I halt, transfixed within its feral light,
My thoughts adrift like hawks in gusts of wind.
The journey veers as the road snakes away;
A guidebook close at hand refines the map.

Who needs the false indulgence of a map
When revelations sear the western sky?
I take the hidden fork along the way,
Past the ghost towns suspended in daytime,
Their histories crying out upon the wind,
And water towers blazing with twilight.

Ahead, a gap looms. Briefly, I alight—
Awareness blooms beyond this tattered map.
Here, mesas lie prostrate against the wind,
And reds of sandstone spires impale the sky,
The spirit journeys through blueprints of time,
Living the truths evolving on the way.

Night veils the road; stars light the fevered sky.
Though the map fades with its fleeting lifetime,
The old wind whispers secrets of the way.

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~~~Second revision ~~~

Maps and Revelations


Dawn breaks. The Colorado carves its way
Through canyon walls into the early light.
I balance at the edge consumed by time—
My route a line that zigzags on the map,
While condors inscribe portents in the sky,
Tracing patterns changing with the wind.

The blind curve swerves into the gritty wind
And mocks this route I’ve plotted as the way,
As a rust-gnawed guardrail riding void and sky
Makes my knuckles blanch against the light,
Beyond the comfort of the dog-eared map—
Into vertigo’s maw with loss of time.

The antique mission bells now warp with time
As adobe walls dissolve into the wind,
With legends never labeled on a map—
Of pilgrims who once blessed this sundered way,
Their candles flickering with a leaden light,
To hymns that echo in a fiery sky.

Now the Rio Grande sprawls beneath the sky,
Its waters grinding at the teeth of time.
I halt, transfixed within its feral light,
My thoughts adrift like hawks in gusts of wind.
The journey veers beyond this snaking way:
For truth, I chart the codex like a map.

Who needs the false indulgence of a map
When revelations sear the western sky?
I take the hidden fork along the way,
Past towns suspended in a bygone time,
Their histories crying out upon the wind,
As water towers blaze in evening light.

A gap unfurls within the streaming light—
Awareness blooms beyond this tattered map.
Here, mesas genuflect into the wind,
And reds of stone spires impale the sky,
The spirit journeys through blueprints of time,
Living the truths evolving on the way.

Night veils the road; stars light the fevered sky.
As the map fades away with the stream of time,
The old wind whispers secrets of the way.

L2: "toward" -> "into"
S1L6: was "Their shadows tracing patterns in the wind."
S4L6: was "For truth, I probe the codex of the map."
S6L4: "stone" -> "sandstone"
S7L3: was "As the map dissolves into the stream of time,"

Hi Alex

I can't quite reconcile the opening lines with direction of flow of the Colorado River.

Dawn breaks. The Colorado carves its way
Through canyon walls toward the early light.

This would suggest the river is heading East. It would make more sense to me if you replaced "toward the" with "away from". Or have I misunderstood?

I'll try to come back to say something helpful about the poetry :)

Hi Joe,

First, thank you for being the first to jump in—and for reading with such close attention to detail!

You're absolutely right to point out the directional issue. My intent with “toward the early light” was more metaphoric than geographic—leaning into the idea of revelation or renewal rather than literal compass orientation. Still, I can see how the phrasing might cause disorientation, especially for someone attuned to the real-world geography.

With that in mind, I’ve now revised the line to read:

Through canyon walls into the early light.

I think “into” still retains the metaphorical resonance while easing the directional tension you noted. I appreciate the catch, and I’ll be glad to hear more when you return with further thoughts on the poem itself!

Cheers,
…Alex

Hi, Alex—

Very beautiful evocation of the Southwest. Sestinas are notoriously difficult to pull off, but you vividly capture the complex geology, biology, and history of the region.

In S1L6 I had difficulty understanding how shadows could trace patterns in wind. It seems that shadows would more properly trace patterns on the ground. I tried substituting the word “dust” for “wind” in each stanza and it worked surprisingly well in every stanza except S4.

In S4L6 the phrase “codex of the map” struck me as oddly unidiomatic. I like the implied antiquity of “codex,” but it seems to me that the map would more properly belong to the codex than the reverse. Would something like, “For truth, I search the codex for the map,” work?

I was not sure what to make of the map dissolving into the stream of time in S7L2. Is the N imagining the ancient map crumbling to dust, or is the darkness of nightfall making the map seem to dissolve into invisibility?

One metric nit: S6L4 is one syllable short. How about, “And reds of sandstone spires impale the sky,” as a fix?

I like the undercurrent of animal and eating imagery that highlights the wildness of the place: “rust-gnawed guardrails,” “It’s waters grinding at the teeth of time,” “feral light,” “thoughts. . . like hawks in gusts of wind.”

I enjoyed this piece very much.

Glenn

Hello, Glenn,

Thanks so much for jumping in with such a thoughtful and attentive critique. I'm really glad the poem spoke to you overall—and yes, sestinas are always a technical balancing act, so it's encouraging to hear it came through.

I agree with your points about the “shadows in the wind” and the “codex” phrasing—both had given me pause, and your suggestions helped crystallize how they might be reworked. I've since tweaked those and a few other places—hopefully all for the better!

Cheers,
...Alex

Hi, Alex—

One more nit: In S1L6, choose either “with” or “in,” but not both.

Glenn

Thanks, Glenn! That was a typo. It's 'with'.

Hello again Alex

I know the basic rules behind a sestina, but haven’t really read enough of them to be able to say what counts as a good sestina. The repetition of the same six line-end words is clearly going to encourage a sense of circling a single issue but I feel there still needs to be some sort of plot, progression, insight, story-telling. In your sestina, the stanza order could be rearranged and it wouldn’t make a big difference (apart from breaking the rules that prescribe the line-ending word order). I would like to come away with a sense of having learned something, but what I’m getting is slightly different angles on the same view. The line-end words seem to be being used the same way each time.

The poem references the Grand Canyon and the Rio Grande and does teeter over in to the grandiose. It feels a little ponderous. I think using “Time” as a repetend may have something to do with that. Your use of the word is always with a capital T. You might try other meanings (lunch-time) or try enjambing it eg ….It's time/ I was gone or somesuch.

My favourite line was S4L2 “Its waters grinding at the teeth of time.”

My least favourite was S2L6 “Into vertigo’s maw with loss of time”. “Maw” felt rather gothic and over-the-top. And “with loss of time” seemed to be a bolted on non-sequitur.

Other nits. Several lines S2L3, S3L2 and S7L2 began with an unnecessary “As” and would read better to me if you deleted them. And I found it difficult to imagine a mesa genuflecting S6L3.

Having said all that. I do like the mood of the thing and many of its images.

Joe

Hi Alex, like Joe I am struggling with the mesas genuflecting. I think I get what you were picturing, but the metaphor still doesn't feel quite right to me. Mesas are static, after all, and genuflection is a movement.

Overall I feel that there are too many adjectives and that many of them could be pared away to make the ones that do remain more impactful. It would be interesting, maybe, to rewrite it in tetrameter, keeping the end-words where they are.

Sestinas are a beast to write.

Thanks for returning to this, Joe, with such in-depth critique—it’s much appreciated.

And thank you, Hilary, for your helpful comments and suggestions.

So, that makes two votes against “genuflect”! It’s one of my favorite images in the piece, but as they say, sometimes you have to kill your darlings.

I’ve now revised the poem to address several of the concerns raised. I’ve also worked on softening the impact of the repetends and relaxing the diction in places. Hopefully this new version flows more naturally and reads more effectively.

Looking forward to your thoughts!

Cheers,
—Alex