[Harry Nicolas]

~~~Revision 1~~~

Big brother’s lens strapped to my helmet
recording a video that generations will ignore.
One final take, we stumble and jerk like our younger

selves watching late-night films.
My opponent grasps his knife.
From the kitchen, it knows only butchering.

On a warm sunny day, incessant buzzing
overhead is drowned out by the whistling
screams from our mothers to come back

inside, piercing through the sky like fried shells.
I lay still as a deer,in the headlights of fate, hot sauce
leaking out. Neat trick from film school coming handy.

His knife thrusts forward, I block with all my might.
We groan and wrestle, like a suburban playdate.
He sinks to the ground next to me, bedtime looming.

With the last of his strength,
he pulls two Cinnabons from his belt. Tears away,
like a gogurt frag, and gifts me the sugary

eucharist and takes his. I put my arm around him.
“Hopefully we’ll go viral”, I think to myself,
fulfilling my duty to my big brother.





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~~~Original~~~

Big brother’s lens strapped to my helmet
recording a video for generations to ignore.
One final take, we stumble and jerk like children’s

heads watching late-night films.
My opponent grasps his knife.
From the kitchen, it knows only butchering.

On a warm sunny day the incessant buzzing
overhead is drowned out by the whistling
screams from our mothers to come back

inside, piercing through the sky like shells.
I lay still as a deer, hot sauce leaking out,
a trick from film school coming handy.

His knife thrusts forward, I block with all my might.
We groan and wrestle, like a suburban playdate.
He sinks to the ground next to me, bedtime looming.

I hear him whisper his order above to the
cirrocumulus intercom. “I’d like to have my
Father’s endless rants with Swiss

cheese and my wife’s Glossier perfume in a wheat
field wrap with a medium Instagram post from my
Son that is estranged”.

“Sorry we’re not serving breakfast now -
would you like to try our new 5 piece crispy
chicken nuggets?”

With the last of his strength,
he pulls two Cinnabons from his belt.
Tears away like Saturn and gifts me the sugary

eucharist and takes his. I put my arm around him.
“Hopefully we’ll go viral”. I think to myself,
fulfilling my duty to my big brother.

[Alex Pepple]

Hello, Harry,

It looks like you’ve been scarce for a while around these parts. It’s good to see you again posting! This poem continues your distinctive enigmatic style. This one appears to blend childhood play with more serious themes.

The opening stanza immediately establishes tension between innocence and violence. I'm curious about your choice of "for generations to ignore" rather than "that generations will ignore" – I’m wondering if it’s an intentional suggestion that this recording is meant to be ignored. Anyhow, I find the three-line stanza structure creates an interesting tension against the dream-like/surreal content.

The juxtaposition of "children's heads watching late-night films" with the kitchen knife "that knows only butchering" creates a powerful dissonance. The line break between the first two stanzas, and between some of the other stanzas enhance this effect.

I'm drawn to the imagery in "On a warm sunny day the incessant buzzing / overhead is drowned out" - I'm reading this as drone aircraft--even if just for filming--with the mothers' calls creating another layer of sound? The way you merge domestic and battlefield environments here is striking.

The "hot sauce leaking out" as fake blood is a brilliant touch that highlights the performance aspect while nodding to film techniques. I'm wondering if it might even be stronger as "red hot sauce..." This blurring of real and performed violence seems central to the poem.

The surreal fast-food order section takes an unexpected turn. The request for "Father's endless rants with Swiss cheese" and the estranged Son's Instagram post suggests deep longing for connection. I wonder if it be more effective by elaborating on how this section connects to the earlier imagery of mothers calling children home.

The Saturn reference works well and operates on multiple levels – mythological, astronomical, temporal, cultural, etc. It seems to connect the childish play-fighting with deeper themes of sacrifice, connection, and the tension between authentic human experience and performed/consumed experience. The Cinnabons into "sugary eucharist" that follows reinforces this transformation of a commercial product into something sacred - suggesting that even in our media-saturated, consumer-driven world, moments of genuine connection can occur.

The closing brings everything full circle with "fulfilling my duty to my big brother" - working simultaneously as literal sibling relationship and perhaps commentary on our submission to viral fame culture.

I think this is richly textured work that rewards multiple readings. I’m hoping my attempts at assimilation/interpretation more or less aligns with your intention... and that my reading isn’t off by miles!

I hope you find something useful here, Harry. Good luck with this as you revise!

Cheers,
...Alex

[Harry Nicolas]

Hey Alex, thanks for the feedback. I didn’t think about the “for” vs “that” wording I will change that. Yes you did pick up on the war,childlike, film, consumerism, social media parallels. I will say the one thing about the ending is that I intended for there two narratives happening at the same time and the war one is sinister/bleak.

[Alex Pepple]

Hello, Harry,

Thanks for your response! I'm glad I picked up on some of the key parallels you were working with in the poem. Your clarification about the dual narratives running simultaneously—and particularly that the war narrative has a more sinister/bleak undertone—helps me appreciate the tension in the piece even more.

With that clarification in mind, I wonder if you might consider ways to subtly enhance the distinction between these parallel narratives? Perhaps certain word choices or imagery could be slightly adjusted to create a sharper contrast between the childlike play elements and the bleaker war reality. The moments where these worlds collide—like the hot sauce as blood or the mothers' calls piercing like shells—are already quite effective.

The Saturn imagery works beautifully in this context of dual narratives. As the character "tears away like Saturn," it could signal a momentary breach between these parallel worlds before they reconnect in that final shared moment with the Cinnabons.

Given your intention for a bleaker war narrative running beneath the surface, the final line "fulfilling my duty to my big brother" takes on an even more poignant quality—suggesting perhaps that duty in wartime carries a much heavier weight than the parallel, superficial goal of viral fame.

I wonder if these narratives are equally "real" within the poem's world, or if one is more of a fantasy/filter through which the other is processed. Either way, the poem creates a fascinating tension between them.

Good luck revising and developing this, Harry!

Cheers,
…Alex

[Harry Nicolas]

Thank you for the feedback Alex, I will incorporate these suggestions into my edits. Also, I was inspired to write this by reading the "Taco Bell Quarterly". I highly suggest you check it out if you haven't seen it before, there's some great poems in all the issues.

[Max Goodman]

This holds my interest strongly through 5 stanzas, the mix of war imagery with the imagery of childhood/suburbia. The image might be sharper if you showed where the taco sauce is leaking from.

The cirrocumulus intercom disorients me (intentionally, maybe), both because I can't bring it into the mental image the poem's created for me by that time and because it feels like completely different register/voice.

After that, things feel random to me. Maybe that's part of the Taco Bell Quarterly aesthetic.

FWIW.

[Harry Nicolas]

Hey Max, Thank you for the feedback. Yes the Taco Bell Quarterly can get somewhat bizarre at times. I will try to work on the second half message maybe being more clear. I tried making the line breaks in stanzas 5 and 6 be more intentional and add more meaning but I think I still have a hard time finding the line between showing and telling.

[Alex Pepple]

Hello Harry,

Thanks for mentioning Taco Bell Quarterly as your inspiration - that context adds another interesting dimension to your work! I'll definitely check it out.

I find myself agreeing with Max's observation about the shift after the fifth stanza. The poem's strength lies in how effectively you blend war imagery with childhood/suburban elements in the first half. That juxtaposition creates a powerful tension that could be maintained more consistently through the second half.

Regarding your comment about "finding the line between showing and telling," I have a few thoughts that might help refine the latter half:

1. Grounding the surreal: Even surreal elements need anchoring. The "cirrocumulus intercom" and the fast-food order sequence could benefit from subtle connections to the established imagery. Perhaps a sensory detail that links back to the earlier scenes?
        
2. Line breaks as guide rails: You mentioned working on intentional line breaks in stanzas 5-6. Consider how these breaks might guide the reader through the transition from concrete play-fighting to the more abstract fast-food/cosmic imagery.
        
3. Parallel development: Since you're working with dual narratives (play and war), perhaps the second half could mirror this structure more explicitly - with each surreal element having both a childlike and a sinister interpretation.
        
4. Tightening the Saturn image: The Saturn reference is intriguing but comes somewhat unexpectedly. You might consider adding a subtle celestial reference earlier in the poem to prepare for this shift in scale.

What strikes me as most promising is how the "sugary eucharist" transforms a commercial product into something sacred and ritualistic. This transformation echoes how children's play transforms everyday objects into props for their imaginary worlds - and simultaneously how war transforms ordinary landscapes into battlefields.

I think with some refinement to maintain the coherence between your parallel narratives, the second half could achieve the same powerful effect as the first five stanzas.

Looking forward to seeing how the poem evolves!

Cheers,
…Alex

[Harry Nicolas]

Hey Alex,thank you for the detailed feedback, I will make some changes based on your advice.

[Jim Moonan]

.
The Taco Bell Quarterly? I give up : )

I think this is well-told, but rather prosaic in its telling. I like the conceit of childhood drama played out in the backyard, but feel you could cut this down by half and leave only the key imagery that will lead the reader to experience what the poem now goes to great lengths to tell them. In other words. Less show and tell, more show. Still, it's very well imagined. Childhood is a treasure trove, if only we can retrieve it!

PS: As happens often in this realm of poetry workshopping, my recent poem "Jam" is also about a knife. Poems are kinetic in that regard, I think. Your poem has also resurrected a memory of a game we used to play with our jack knives called "Split". I won't go into details, but I don't know how we survived it without injury, but we did.

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