[Jim Moonan]

Originally Posted by W T Clark

Jim. The poem is purely visual. It feels like reportage....

It is always wise to remember that one's intentions for a poem and the reader's perception of that poem may differ widely, and that one may have to work to alter those perceptions that they might align with those intentions.
Hope this helps.

Yes to that!
My explanation of what I had intended to convey to the reader and the disconnect with what the reader is perceiving is essentially expecting the horse to drink the water without leading them to it.

In my response earlier I erroneously indicated that I wanted the feeling of numbness to come across. In fact, it's not numbness but extreme coldness that I hoped would come through the short lines growing shorter by the line as well as the key visual descriptors (anytime an ocean turns to ice it is extremely cold) that I'd hoped would connote extreme cold. I wanted a poem that sounded like it was being spoken between the teeth through clenched jaw. Instead, it is coming off anything but cold, other than the fact that it "feels like reportage" as you said. In that regard I failed. There may be a way that I can salvage it, but it might be a very different poem given the other things, too, that it falls short on delivering.

But thanks for pointing out that vital fact: a poem's intentions do not always align with the reader's perceptions. And thanks nonetheless for the poetic example of numbness. It's fantastic.

Thanks for reading and commenting, Alexandra. We cross posted. The essence of what you say is very much what others are saying. Regarding the shape of it, I was not going for a visual representation of the dune. It was meant to be a visual representation of how words dwindle in the face of stiff, icy winds and bone-chilling cold. But I don't think it came through. I might be better off using increasing space as the poem sinks.... Until I get around to revamping the poem entirely (or just throwing it out and starting over) I may experiment with space and see if that jumpstarts it into being what I intend.

Rick, I think you’re right again about how to incorporate myself into the poem. I’ve changed it. But I don't think it does much, if anything, to breathe life into the poem. I think this has turned out to be a poem with no wind in its sails. The irony is that the poem was meant to be full of wind. Icy, breath-taking, bone-chilling stiff wind.
If I do anything more with it I would do as you say: find the connective tissue that will animate it. Thanks for the help.


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Michael, we cross posted. You may have come to save the day. Your suggestion to add a stanza might be the right vehicle for breathing life into it. I’ll have to sleep on it.
(I see you’ve posted a poem that deals with the same landscape. You would know. Plum Island has been pounded this winter. I read the poem quickly and found the loss within it beautifully conveyed. I’m looking forward to giving it more time and commenting.)

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[Alexandra Baez]

Jim, did you not intend for your title to be read as the first line of the poem? I do so naturally, which leads me to read, in abbreviated form, "I see . . . I" instead of the grammatically correct "I see myself" or at least the semi-grammatically-correct "I see me."

[Julie Steiner]

Hi, Jim!

You say in your prose comments that you want the reader to feel cold. But what we see is always at some distance from us, even when we look at our own bodies. And what we see can sometimes be perceived through a window or electronic screen, so we do not have to be directly in contact with it. In contrast, what we feel is so close, it's touching us.

So I, like several other readers, don't understand why the title is inviting the reader to use only the sense of vision—especially if the grand finale is when the narrator contracts into self-awareness. Self-awareness is typically not a visual experience.

So I don't think your title sets you up for success here.

[Max Goodman]

Apologies if any of this repeats what's already been said.

Unless you're after an alternate reading I'm missing: snow-topped (with a hyphen)

ice wind
isn't a visual detail. That's a strength (and further non-visual sensory details might strengthen it further), but for this reader it clashes with the title.

[Jim Moonan]

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Thanks Alexandra, Julie, Max, et al. for continuing to examine this one. It is unanimous: it widely misses the target. I'm working on a "thawed" revision. I'm on the fence about whether to keep at this since it fell so short of the mark. The rules specifically say, "no first drafts" and, although I hadn't thought of it as a first draft, in hindsight it effectively is. To post it on metrical is also a dubious claim especially to those who make this board their home.

(It’s astounding to me how much I learn about myself (as a poet) simply by reading responses (by other poets) to what I write. To be brutally self-critical, I barely make the cut-off to earn the title “poet”. But the truth is I am more of a poet today than at any other point in my life. One might write a good poem every now and then, but the process of becoming a good poet can take more lifetimes than I’m allowed — Ha!)

Yes, the title is terrible and I now consider it the crux of the problem. I will likely have one more go at it, taking all the suggestions into consideration, and then see if it can swim on its own.

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[Roger Slater]

Perhaps another title? I find it awkward to say you see yourself, especially if you say "I" instead of "me," but I'd feel differently if the title were, for example, "What the Moon Sees", or "Under the Sky," or something like that.

[Ella Shively]

Hi Jim,

I love me a short, descriptive poem with lots of sound, so I really liked this one. My favorite was “sea slushy slow/spume waves/sky fog gray.” Because of the “I” at the end with no punctuation, I read this as a breathless, unfinished sentence. I don’t think I was supposed to read it that way, but it worked for me. I think partially because of this interpretation, I experienced the beauty of the setting way more than the cold. Rereading it, I can see that the descriptors indicate cold, but I didn’t come away imagining a bitter, terrible chill. I’m not sold on the title yet. I think that if you give us the setting in the title, we’ll already assume the poem is describing what you saw.

This one would sound fantastic read aloud.

Thanks for sharing,

Ella

[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

Hi Jim,

I struggle metrically with this but this board seems to have changed massively in its perception of metre.

John’s comment on the use of Haiku for this (which would firmly place it in non met) triggered my thoughts on this namely why not in molossus tercets Something like:

snow topped sand
grey fog sky
sea slush slow

Why not a touch of Claudius in the title:
I, Sea
Plays the pun as well.

BTW I love the incredibly evocative ‘slushy sea’.

[Mark McDonnell]

Jim, this reads to me like quick, very slight beginning notes for a poem-in-progress. I suppose the brevity could be described as haiku-like, but there isn’t much of the haiku’s sense of surprising juxtaposition or revelation. However, I’m struck by some of the phrases you use in your first reply:

“Even the ocean had slowed down as if it was a cold-blooded being.”

“I hope your artist's eye can see the scene. It is a landscape with numbness.”

These are great lines, I think, and would both make great openings to a poem. You should trust your natural flair for language more and don’t worry so much about making the poem. Let the language come first and the poem will begin to organise itself.

[Jim Moonan]

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Revision posted.
Suffice it to say that, with the continuing input from Alexandra, Julie, Max, Roger, Ella, Jan, and Mark, I mustered the focus I needed to break the ice with this and thaw it out to be, I think, a better poem. (Puns are always intended — ha!)

I must admit I’m amazed at the attention given to this poem. In hindsight, it arrived prematurely (as Mark notes) and I wholly credit its maturity to the thoughtful suggestions that have been offered. The little poem would have stayed as it was for eternity if not for the help I’ve gotten. So again, thank you.

I’ve already taken up too much space and time on a board I don’t belong on — not with this poem anyway. I apologize for that.

I absorbed and ruminated over the many good suggestions made by better poets than I for nearly a week as I remained frozen in my thoughts about how to bring the poem to life. Finally, Mark’s simple observation that what I had posted were notes for a poem unleashed what I hope is the whole poem made from the notes in the original.

So it was a good exercise for me to not settle for notes, like I so often do. If the revision doesn’t improve it in other’s eyes then I’ll also find a way to learn from that.

(And btw, everyone was right: The poem was slight. I hope I've filled in the gap that Cameron noted when he said the poem I might have intended for the reader to feel (in its original version) was not in fact what the readers were getting from it. It was a pretty wide gap. I hope I've bridged it.)

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