[Turner Cassity]

Cardio

Amid the belted whir of bright machines
at 5am, I join a clutch of others
matched up against their schedules, ages, genes:
the young execs, old men, determined mothers.
Paying no heed to those who churn beside me,
I choose instead to lose myself in tunes
of life and love (for lives and loves denied me).
Through iPod headphones, Gordon Lightfoot croons,

and I accelerate through yesterday
to reach the seconds of a second chance
at something played, delayed or swept away:
that ball I dropped, my vows, a girl in France;
yet in attempting to replace the past,
I race my heart and travel nowhere fast.



Comments:
“Churn” is either a mistake or a stroke of genius. I am not sure which. I know nothing about exercise machines, but I suspect some other word might more accurately describe the motion. The poem maintains exactly the right tone.

[Catherine Chandler]

Cardio

Superb title. Splendid diction. Even the tunes/croons rhyme work here! Today vs yesterday – iPod vs Gordon Lightfoot (I adore that pun!); the playful, clever logic of lines 3 & 4 and again in lines 11 & 12. The ingenious use of the cliché “travel nowhere fast” finishes off this bittersweet, romantic/comedic, perfectly crafted Shakespearean sonnet, that makes Mr. Lightfoot’s song “Race Among the Ruins” seem, well, rather pedestrian.

Bravo!

[Tim Murphy]

I'm going to find this guy in a bar some night, and I want him on my side of the fight. Seriously good poem, for all its fun.

[Kevin Cutrer]

If I am picturing it correctly, "churn" is probably a reference to the step machines, in which case it is spot on. If this is the case, I would replace "bright" with "step" for clarity and accuracy.

The iPod reference left me cold, probably because of the sentence's inverted syntax, which makes the pop culture reference seem anachronistic.

But I love the sestet, and the couplet is marvelous.

Editing in: I also love the fact that this is a Shakespearean sonnet with an Italian structure.

[Petra Norr]

I think this is great. I like it a bunch. The sonnet opens well. Thanks to the “whir”, we get an active opening instead of a passive one (which is all too common in sonnets). Another nice and active touch is the phrase “those who churn beside me”. In brief words the poet creates the scene and lets us see (and hear) what’s happening. The rest of the sonnet is just as fine. The ending couplet is great. Clever writing combined with nice sonics and a good voice gets high marks from me.

There’s only one thing that bothers me. Every time I read these lines I stumble:

Through iPod headphones, Gordon Lightfoot croons,

and I accelerate through yesterday

Even if I know “croons” is a verb I end up reading it as a noun (which in fact it can be), and consequently I go off track when I come to “and I accelerate...” This happens every single time I read the poem. I don’t know if this sonnet is published, but if it isn’t I could wish for some adjustment in the “croons” line. For the sake of clarity, I’d probably delete the comma after “croons”.

[R. Nemo Hill]

Ah well, I confess to being prejudiced against this one from the start because the picture painted of the row of indoor stationary runners listening to their headphones is one I have witnessed while walking outdoors by the dozens of corporate gyms that have sprouted up all over Manhattan, a picture I see framed and contained again and again by those giant plate-glass windows, a fish-tank portrait of plastic health which I can't help but wish the poem were more savagely critical of. My failing, I suppose, but the poem seems too generous. The reverie, when it kicks in in the sestet, would be a chance to redeem the poem for me, to give it some bite--but instead all I get is the generically romantic 'girl in France' which I find utterly limp as an image. The finale of traveling nowhere fast while succinct and apt (and a good use of cliche, as opposed to that silly French girl) is too little too late for me.

Nothing wrong with the execution, of course. This is merely a personal quibble about content. Yet such quibbles, idiosyncratic as they may be, are what usher in or bar entry to the individual souls of individual readers. So while I don't dislike this, I can't get too excited about it either.

Nemo

[Shaun J. Russell]

I like how the internal rhyme adds to the overall rhythm of this poem, also helping to push it forward. I, too, stumble at the iPod line for the exact same reason Kevin does: it's too anachronistic, in my view...and also superfluous. I'm also not a fan of the stanza break while "croons" ends on a comma. Sure, it's the volta, but that doesn't necessitate a stanza break.

I'm totally fine with "churn." I own an elliptical trainer, and when your arms and legs are making a rhythmic "stirring" motion, churning is an apt description indeed.

My biggest problem with this piece though is that I fail to see how the N can be attempting to "replace the past" by working out. There are many allusions that can be made to one's past that could have been used here, but "replace" seems to me to be the wrong word.

Overall though, I think it's a good poem.

[Kate Benedict]

How I love the 'sphere sometimes! The comments coming in are so insightful and the worrying over the slightest things, like a comma -- well that's just what we poets are called to do. And speaking of commas, L8 would read more smoothly with no commas at all.

I love the phrase "accelerate through yesterday" but agree that "replace" in L13 is not the mot juste; perhaps "reclaim" or "relive" or such like?

Like Rick, I have a rather jaundiced view of the exercise culture--the running to nowhere, the climbing to no height--but the N here seems to appreciate the absurd side, judging by the last line. If a "girl in France" is too boilerplate, make it a "fuck in France"; though I'm not generally fond of the F bomb in poems, for some reason I'd love it here.

[Rose Kelleher]

I totally get what Nemo means about the "girl in France" and love Kate's suggested fix.

This sonnet actually reminds me of someone working out. He goes through the motions, demonstrating admirable discipline and grace. We respect that. But it's not very interesting to watch.

[Bruce McBirney]

I like this very much. Vital, breezy, and builds nicely to the sting of futility at the end.

Interesting diction as well ("belted whir," "clutch of others," "churn"). I had no problem, as some did, with "croon" and the comma following it. Nor with "replace the past" (since the narrator previously links his reverie to "lives and loves denied me" and a "second chance").

I'm not wild about "played, delayed or swept away." Too much of a good thing. (Like monorhyme generally!)

Great work. My favorite to date.