[Rick Mullin]

Odds

After Albert Pinkham Ryder’s The Race Track (Death on a Pale Horse)

The odds are in your favor, yet the same.
The house is under camp smoke. But it’s there.
Of course the serpent startles at the game.

O clockwise rider, you are not to blame.
Smart money isn’t always on the square.
The odds are in your favor, yet the same--

a tablespoon of absinthe set aflame,
a cloud line hammered tight enough to tear.
Of course the serpent startles at the game.

The morning after doesn't fit the frame,
no upshot in the echo of despair.
The odds are in your favor, yet the same,

candescent jockey. Psychopomp by name.
The remit of your landscape, laissez-faire.
Of course the serpent startles at the game.

The hour you present the winning claim
is tolled in rolling numbers, fog and prayer.
The odds are in your favor, yet the same.
Of course the serpent startles at the game.

___
Changes:


"but" to "yet" in the first repetend.


S4/L1 was: The morning after isn't our domain.


Minor punctuation tweaks too tedious to note.
.

[Nick McRae]

Rick,

Nothing stood out to me on a quick read-through. I enjoyed the poem, but my only comment is that I don't understand what it's getting at.

I'm not sure if I'm approaching ekphrasis the right way. Should I read the backstory on the piece of art before I read the poem? It feels like there's a backstory here that I don't know, but need to.

[Julie Steiner]

Hi, Rick!

The overall moodiness and deflation fits the painting, which was new to me.

I couldn't quite grasp the literal meaning of the first repetend:
The odds are in your favor, but the same.
If the entire poem is addressed to the figure of Death as "you," the odds are definitely in "your" favor overall, since all mortals die. The only 50:50 gamble sometimes is whether we will die in a particular situation rather than (inevitably) some other situation. Is that what you mean by the odds being "the same"?

If so, that's still a little hard for me to suss each time the repetend pops up again. Not that I need to fully understand everything in a poem in order to enjoy it, but I can't shake the feeling that the current wording of this phrase just isn't working for me as intended.

Something like The odds are in your favor, all the same" would work better for me. In that case, the two repetends would need to be switched so that this is the final statement. I like the idea of the snake's startle being presented in the first repetend, so it can be dismissed by the "all the same" repetend later. You would also have the option of punctuating in the middle of that line, to have a turn beginning "All the same" somewhere in the poem — perhaps even the first time.

My best guess is that "The house" referred to in L2 is the proverbial gambling establishment referenced in "The house always wins," rather than a literal house obscured in the painting. I suppose that in a gambling metaphor, "the house" might map to an entity that's not Death, affecting the odds (despite the later mention of "laissez-faire"), in which case mentioning the snake first takes on even more of a Biblical vibe than when the snake is mentioned second.

I struggle to parse this sentence:
The odds are in your favor, but the same, candescent jockey, psychopomp by name, the remit of your landscape laissez-faire.
I'm thinking that the repetend part is the main sentence, and the rest are epithets for Death. Maybe an em dash instead of a comma at the end of the repetend would make that clearer.

A final thought — I think it would be more captivating to see the snake mentioned immediately before the flaming absinthe. That's such a dramatic image, and linking it more closely to the snake might give it even more oomph.

I like what you're doing with to contrast the (illegal) clockwise motion of the rider with the "square" rhyme.

I hope that my thoughts are helpful for triangulating what you want the poem to do. (If my thoughts make you strengthen your resolve to stick to your guns, that's a helpful effect, too, I hope.)

[Alex Pepple]

Hello, Rick,

This is an intriguing and layered villanelle with rich imagery and a haunting tone. I admire how you capture the mood of Ryder’s The Racetrack (Death on a Pale Horse)—the poem echoes that same eerie, unsettling inevitability.

I’ve suggested a few minor tweaks for clarity and flow while keeping the integrity of your vision intact.

Odds

After Albert Pinkham Ryder’s The Racetrack (Death on a Pale Horse)

The odds are in your favor, but yet the same. →
"yet" introduces a smoother, more natural flow while preserving the inevitability of the refrain. It subtly enhances the sense of contradiction while also avoiding immediate repetition with the next line's "but."

The house is under camp smoke. But it’s there.
Of course the serpent startles at the game.

Oh O clockwise rider, you are not to blame. → Technically, for direct address to a person or entity, it should be "O," not "Oh"; besides, 'Oh' needs to be followed by a comma.

Smart money isn’t always on the square.
The odds are in your favor, but the same--

A tablespoon of absinthe set aflame,
a cloud line hammered tight enough to tear.
Of course the serpent startles at the game.

The morning after, isn’t our domain not for us to tame, →
This is the only instance of off-rhyme in the piece, so it stands out more than intended. Here’s one possible tweak for smoother sound alignment.

No upshot in the echo of despair.
The odds are in your favor, but the same,

Candescent jockey, psychopomp by name,
the remit of that rides through your landscape with laissez-faire. →
I wasn't getting the full sense of this phrase, so this is one possible fix that enhances clarity while maintaining the rhythm and tone.

Of course the serpent startles at the game.

The hour you present the winning claim
is tolled in rumbling numbers, fog and prayer.
The odds are in your favor, but the same.
Of course the serpent startles at the game.

This is a striking piece that effectively channels the dark, fatalistic energy of Ryder’s painting. Fine work!

Cheers,
...Alex

[Rick Mullin]

Thanks folks,

Hi Nick.

I'm not sure an ekphrastic poem is getting at anything, any more than a painting that isn't overtly narrative is soing so. If anything, I suppose, it's going after a feeling.

There is a back story I know from an old fashioned book, but it must be Googlable. It was more prominent in the first draft, which I didn't post. I backed it out, but there is still an echo. I'm pretty sure that a reader needn't know the story--it's better if he or she doesn't, I think. If a reader does know the story, they may pick up on it in the poem, but hopefully not be distracted. Thanks.

Hi Julie,

Thanks for the detailed response. Note that I took Alex's suggestion that I replace "but" with "yet" in the first repetend. He gives a very good justification of doing so based on subtle differences in words that pretty much mean the same thing. The line also sounds better with "yet", I think.

The meaning of the line? First, I mean for it to be a bit... mysterious or a head-scratcher? I suppose (and I like that I can't completely nail it down) that it means that we know the odds and who wins, but still consider the odds. Kind of like that textbook definition of insanity that leaves out all sorts of insanity.

Glad that my reference to "the house" registers. Yes, it always wins--raising the question of what the house is. I like it raised and stationary in that position.~,:^) I also like the notion of an object in the painting obscured by the surface image of the painting.


I agree that the long run with the word psychopomp is hard to keep up with. Note that I have broken it into a sentence and two fragments. I love the word psychopomp, given its meaning and the meaning of the two words psycho and pomp, which no doubt make no direct contribution to the word they create when you put them together. Greek scholars, if you are actually reading this, let me know more about the word "psychpomp". Anyway, I'm hoping it connects with the image of the racing jockey. Hermes, of course, is the archetype.

Thanks for your thoughts on switching the position of the repetends, but for various reasons I like how I have them. Thanks again for digging in.


Alex! I've been knocking my head against stone objects over how to fix that first line. I think the simple move to "yet" works really well. The difference is not so simple--thanks for the annotated suggestion.

Yes on "O" not "oh".

I definitely like describing the morning after as not being our domain. We are gone the morning after if the event is death. I hadn't noticed that it's an off rhyme!~,:^0 This helps me justify an off rhyme, though I should give finding a true rhyme the old college try. [.... A good one would be "The morning after isn't in the frame". This brings in the idea of what is confined by the borders of the source, which is always a consideration in regard to art. But the domain line is better. I have Ms and an N in the license plate of my car, which I think kind of hums, so there is that as well.]

The landscape line may be even more cryptic than the repeated first line, I suppose. It kind of exists as a statement of the approach to ekphaksis or what the subject offers in the endeavor. The landscape in this case is so obscured by a dreadful green ochre ambiance in the picture that it invites a wide range of interpretation--moreover it invokes a feeling that can have no one description in words. This painting is an ideal source for ekphraksis, I think. Anything having to do with the hereafter and its gateway is also ripe for a new picture.

I think this one is going to put off readers who approach it with a requirement for clear linear narrative and lines with an objective meaning. These are good things when they happen. And their absence can mean that the poem sucks. I'm hoping that this poem will work with some reader tolerance for the obscure, an element I think is essential to the painting. I have known it for years and only gradually come to understand it (I didn't know the backstory until years after I began looking at the picture). I will never nail it down entirely. Nor will anyone else! The joy of art!

Rick

[Susan McLean]

Rick, I agree with Alex that using "domain" as a rhyme in S4L1 is disappointing. What about something like "is outside the frame"? There is a literal frame to the painting, but it works at the symbolic level, too. In S5L1 your end punctuation looks like a mistake. I can't make much sense of S5L2. It seems very abstract, but I think you get more bang for your buck from images. I like the idea of death on a racetrack, and the "clockwise" seems apt. Perhaps you can do even more with the idea of the racetrack resembling a clock.

Susan

[Rick Mullin]

Hi Susan,


I considered "frame". As I explained to Alex, I don't think I can top the use of "domain", or the idea in that sentence. Alex alerted me to my stumble--I, of course, had read the poem, many times aloud, without noticing it.

Keep in mind that in ancient Persia, if you wove a carpet without one mistake it was considered an insult to the Creator and you were headed straight to Hell!!!!! Also, when painting, I find that nothing ruins a picture more than corner-to-corner regard for the physics of perspective.

Of course, I'm slightly embarrassed by the off rhyme and will likely give alternatives more thought. I don't know what could be better than "frame". But frame is not really very good. Although it defines the great paradoxical constraint, it's also the first thing outside of the picture.

Yes, that is glitched punctuation in S5L1. Fixed. That landscape line comes up for me as an abstract image, which I think is in keeping with the large area of sky, land, and atmosphere in the painting. That "abstract" space is essential to the picture. It supports the representational (The sky, by the way, is much more difficult to paint than a human figure with period clothing and detailed facial features. And it's usually more interesting.) Note I've added a comma that might make the line work better as an adjunct to, "The odds are in your favor,..."

Thanks,
RM


I mentioned initially that Nick and Julie let me slide on same/domain. I see that Julie did not! ~,:^)

[Rick Mullin]

I think I've come up with a true rhyme--frame, not surprisingly--that will work well. Thanks for the push on this and other items.
RM

[Julie Steiner]

Hi, Rick! I like your new psychopomp punctuation and "fit the frame."

Tangential pedantry (skip if not interested):

You mentioned the concept of deliberately introducing imperfections into artwork as an acknowledgement that only God can make perfect creations.

I'm aware of two relevant mythologies about that — the Persian one you mentioned, and an Amish one; but both concepts seem to have been attributed to those cultures by outsiders.

The Persians I know (my sister's husband and his family in Tehran) say, and several online sites endorse, that the concept of a "Persian flaw" intentionally put into carpets is unknown to actual Persians. It was probably invented by Western carpet salespeople in order to help them push imperfect wares on Western customers who didn't know any better.

The so-called "Amish humility block" in quilts, containing an intentional flaw, is likewise denied by the Amish. When there are unexpected color changes in a quilt, it's usually because the quilter did not have enough fabric from the original dye lot and had to make substitutions from another dye lot. These variations are usually concentrated in a part of the quilt that will go unnoticed when the quilt is actually put on a bed, such as the corner most likely to be against a wall.

The Japanese aesthetic concepts of wabi-sabi and kintsugi are authentic, but somewhat different. They celebrate damage or wear that constitutes part of the history of the object. One example is the use of lacquer mixed with precious metals to repair broken pottery in a way that highlights the cracks. But deliberate damage to an otherwise perfect artwork as a statement of the creator's humility is not the same thing.

[Rick Mullin]

Thanks Julie,

I very much enjoyed reading what you had to say. The Japanese concepts are new to me. Very interesting.

The Persian belief has always cracked me up--it's as if to say we have to include an imperfection in our rugs, which are otherwise perfect, because only God is perfect.

Speaking of cracking up, many, if not most, of Ryder's paintings look like they are hundreds of years old because of extensive, and I think really quite beautiful in most cases, crazing caused by his constant over-painting and use of questionable paints and mediums. An example is Pegasus. Linking this reminds me that I neglected to provide a link to the Race Track.... Sorry ~,:^) I will add one now, quite late in the game.