[James Brancheau]

Revision

Resonance

I walk back to you on fingertips, carefully
turning each grainy page, peeling them from

each other, from their folded selves in dust
that unsettles quickly from my deep closet

shelves—that rush up to light like all of a sudden
doubt, or an old song in the mind that silence

brings out. In the must that will gather where
time stands still, I found them bound by a hair-

band, notes and letters beneath frills. I look
hard, but can’t understand the grandness

of my flourish, the tapering landscapes of hills,
my own hand. One by one I pull them apart,

squint to hear the lyrics of the younger heart—
maybe the spacious acoustics of forever

and ever, of brighter rooms. I pluck at the
corners, try to grip what I meant, to find

a clear note, what string’s out of tune.




*Notes:

yellowed letters --> notes and letters



Resonance

I walk back to you
on fingertips, carefully

turning each grainy
page, peeling them from

each other, from their
folded selves in dust

that unsettles quickly
from my deep closet

shelves—that rush up to
light like all of a sudden

doubt, or an old song
in the mind that silence

brings out. In the must
that will gather where

time stands still, I found
them bound by a hair-

band, yellowed letters
beneath frills. I try,

but can’t understand
the grandness of my

flourish, the tapering
landscapes of hills,

my own hand. One by
one I pull them apart,

squint to hear the lyrics
of the younger heart—

maybe the spacious
acoustics of forever

and ever, of brighter
rooms. I pluck at the

corners, try to grip
what I meant, to find

a clear note, what
string’s out of tune.




*Notes:

Changed the close from:

........I pluck at the

corners, try to grip
what I meant—as if

I’ll find a clear note,
the string out of tune.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, James—

This is a very touching poem. At first reading I thought the “you” in L1 referred to a wife or loved one, perhaps having passed away years earlier, to whom the N had written the letters and poems. The reference to the hairband seemed to support this. Upon re-reading, though, I decided that the N is addressing his younger self as “you.” He is most interested in his youthful handwriting and use of language. Knowing that your voice has been silenced, the reference to silence in L12 and the N’s search for “a clear note” are very powerful.

I was a bit confused by the reference to dust. I wouldn’t expect dust to unsettle if the closet where the documents are kept is damp.

Thanks for sharing this beautiful piece.

Glenn

[Richard G]

Hi James.
I enjoyed this, but got lost trying to navigate the ending: the 'pluck' within the em dashes can't relate to the 'string' which must tie back to the younger heart. Or so it seems to me. Might you remove the second dash (after 'meant') and switch the comma after 'note' to a period?

RG.

[Carl Copeland]

Originally Posted by Richard G

I enjoyed this, but got lost trying to navigate the ending …

My first reaction was similar to Richard’s. As a master of misreading, I first got:

as if I’ll find a clear note [and find] the string out of tune

It shouldn’t have taken me several readings to get something more plausible:

as if I’ll find a clear note [even though] the string [is now] out of tune

Like a string instrument that’s been lying around for years, the letters don’t ring true anymore.

Speaking of letters, I was so sure at the beginning that you were peeling apart pages of a diary or notebook that when you later find letters, I thought they were longhand characters. Yellowed and bound? I told you I was a master.

BTW, “carefully flip” is nearly an oxymoron, like “slowly scamper.”

I agree with Glenn that the poem is beautiful and touching (in every sense of the word). A treat to read.

[James Brancheau]

Hey Glenn—thanks for the quick response and I’m very pleased that you liked this. I’m still thinking about the damp pages vs the dust. It is possible that both could be present? You have me wondering…

Thank you very much for your thoughts, Richard. I admit that I’m not quite sure what you mean regarding the ending—not your suggested adjustments, but what confused you. When I stopped working on this last night, I added a note to myself: “Don’t get too cute with the close.” So, hmmm. I don’t know if this would clear things up, but here’s what I had:

maybe the spacious
acoustics of forever

and ever, of brighter
rooms. I pluck at the

corners as if I’ll find
a clear note, what

string’s out of tune.




*Just saw that you posted, Carl. I'll come back. (Perhaps I'll go back to "turn" instead of "flip.")

[Richard G]

Hi James,

what confused you
The comma, mainly. What follows note, felt like a new thought, a discovery. That and the switch from plural (page(s), letters, one by one etc) to the singular (string.)
As a noted misreader, please take all this with (at least one) pinch of salt.

Elsewhere, would hate to see the 'unsettled dust' disappear, much taken with that.

(Perhaps I'll go back to "turn" instead of "flip.")
Tease ?


RG.

[Hilary Biehl]

I was reading the ending something like this: "as if I'll find a clear note or identify the string that's out of tune," but now Richard and Carl have me confused.

I also had the same thought as Glenn regarding the dampness and dust. But I like the dust unsettling and wouldn't want to lose that. Is the dampness necessary?

It's a lovely poem.

[James Brancheau]

Hi Carl—I, too, am a master of that, believe me. I’m frankly embarrassed by some of my past interpretations. But your initial reading is correct, and your other interpretation isn’t wrong. How’s that? I rather like the idea of the string instrument lying around for years… Anyway, I’m relieved. Yes, they are love letters, love notes, etc. You were of course also correct about “flip” and have changed that. Thank you for your comments and the kind words.

Yes, Hilary, that’s what I intended re the close. I fear that both you and Glenn are right about the dampness. I’d like something more tactile there, so I’m trying “grainy.” There are other things I like about it, so I’m really hoping this does the trick. Thanks much for your input and the push.

Thanks for coming back, Richard. Ok, now I’m clear, I think, about what confused you. I guess I see enough of a connection between “note” and what follows to use the comma—though I do see how it abruptly changes gears there, hinges on the meanings of “note.” It’s kind of in the same vein as “squint to hear,” I guess. Or that’s how I see it anyway. I’d be interested to know if others have the same or similar issues with it. Very much appreciate your detailed attention to this.

[Carl Copeland]

Originally Posted by James Brancheau

But your initial reading is correct …

No, James, I’m too good a misreader to have gotten it right on first reading. I heard you saying: “I pluck at the corners … as if I’ll find a clear note and also find that the string I’m plucking is out of tune.” Now I suppose you must be hoping to find a clear note as well as find the one string that’s out of tune, so you can tune it. That was Hilary’s reading, I think.

[James Brancheau]

Hahaha-- you don't give yourself nearly enough credit, Carl. I certainly don't mind some open-endedness. A majority of the time, it's preferable to me. But, if I really want to get down to it, neither will be found because I can't read what I wrote (as if I'll find a clear note, as if I'll find the string
out of tune). But I'm more than happy with what you and others got from it. Which, to me, isn't that different.


*Added: I didn't mean to come off as dismissive. If I did, I apologize. It wasn't my intention. I do of course very much appreciate the depth and detail of your comments. To know exactly, specifically what you're thinking. It's very helpful. Thanks again for that.