[Simon Hunt]

(Revision #2) Murmuration

In Central Park, one hundred starlings soared–
or so the legend goes–because a bored
bardolater supposed our skies should teem
with every bird that Shakespeare’s actors deem
worth mention in the plays.
..........................................By now, they fly
from sea to shining sea. It’s not a lie,
exactly, but it also isn’t true,
no more than what I tried to say to you
the time I watched them as we talked by phone,
your voice the thing that made me not alone:

that birds were writing letters in the sky,
as if the shapes they formed were somehow my
imagination now transcribed by wings,
my thoughts turned into things, then other things.

Regrets revised frame words of gratitude
like clouds of starlings–polymorph, imbued
with wonder. Watching the sky swoop and shirr,
I gaped. They formed, re-formed–and there you were.


(Revision #1: retitled, slightly revised) Murmuration

In Central Park, one hundred starlings soared–
or so the legend goes–because a bored
bardolater supposed our skies should teem
with every bird that Shakespeare’s actors deem
worth mention in the plays.
..........................................By now, they fly
from sea to shining sea. It’s not a lie,
exactly, but it also isn’t true,
no more than what I tried to say to you
the time I watched them as we talked by phone,
your voice the thing that made me not alone:

that birds were writing letters in the sky,
as if the shapes they formed were somehow my
imagination now transcribed
..........................................–a can
of treacle, dripping slowly as in sand
where I had poured it.
.....................................Words of gratitude
are clouds of starlings–polymorph, imbued
with wonder. Watching the sky swoop and shirr,
I gaped. They formed, re-formed–and there you were.


(original) Starlings

In Central Park, one hundred starlings soared–
or so the legend goes–because a bored
bardolater supposed our skies should teem
with every bird that Shakespeare’s actors deem
worth mention in the plays. By now, they fly
from sea to shining sea. It’s not a lie,
exactly, but it also isn’t true,
no more than what I tried to say to you
the time I watched them as we talked by phone,
your voice the thing that made me not alone:
that birds were writing letters in the sky,
as if the shapes they formed were somehow my
imagination now transcribed–a can
of treacle, dripping slowly as in sand
where I had poured it. Words of gratitude
are clouds of starlings–polymorph, imbued
with wonder. Watching the sky swoop and shirr,
I gaped. They formed, re-formed; and there you were.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Simon—

I enjoyed this poem, but I’m a bit confused by your ambivalence toward starlings. In LL1-7 they seem to be annoying imported pests. But in the rest of the poem, they seem to be wonderful harbingers of your absent beloved one.

In L5 I would replace “By now. . .” with “And now. . .” I also was a bit puzzled by the treacle being poured in sand. Is that a thing in the U.K.? The enjambment in almost every line in the last half of the poem make it speed along very quickly. Was this meant to suggest the quick movement of the cloud of birds?

Glenn

[Matt Q]

Hi Simon,

I find a lot to like here. In particular, I like how the origin story leads us into the poem, the image of a starling murmuration, form and reforming into letters that spell out words, and how we're left to ponder what the N tried to say, and what he was grateful for. I was somewhat confused by the treacle metaphor, though.

The poem starts with a description of how starlings are introduced to America, or rather the story of this -- because we're told it isn't completely true. In what way, I'm not sure. The NYT story about debunking this is behind a paywall, and other sites I can found concurred with the story, but that doesn't really affect the poem, I guess. Unlike Glenn, I don't see the N saying starlings are an invasive pest species -- though many in the US may see them as such now -- just giving the origin story. From this we learn that the N was trying to say something less than 100% truthful to his beloved. Then the N recalls speaking to his beloved by phone telling them -- or trying to tell them -- something neither completely true or completely false, and watching a flock of starlings appearing to from letters in the sky, as if reflecting his imagination. The letters spelled words of gratitude, I think. The close tells us, I think, that having formed letters, the starlings then take on the shape of the beloved, the beloved's face, I would imagine. I'm referring to the other as the beloved, the object of romantic love -- especially given their face appearing -- but they could be another kind of loved one, a family member, or a good friend, I guess.

Here:

Words of gratitude / are clouds of starlings–polymorph, imbued / with wonder.

I think the N is stating the general case, and saying that a starling flock is a metaphor for words for gratitude -- full of wonder and having many shapes. From which I deduce that words of gratitude is what were being spelling out when the N watched them.

So, we learn that the N is grateful to the beloved for some reason. We're not told what. One option suggested by the poem is that perhaps the beloved helps him feel no longer alone. So what does he try to say? It's not clear if he fails to say it altogether, or just doesn't express it clearly/well. I'm guess that the N tries to express his gratitude, fails to do so, and the starlings to do it for him. But that would suggest his gratitude wasn't 100% sincere/true. So, my best guess is that he tries to say "I love you", meaning instead, "I'm grateful that you're there for me". Anyway, he's trying to express gratitude, and doesn't manage it, but the starlings express it for him (albeit, the beloved doesn't see this).

I'm not sure how well the switch the present tense/general case, and then the immediate switch back to the past, works for me. (When I read it, I was expecting "were"). Or maybe it's just this sentence, which reads like a conclusion, that needs something more to set it up, some prior mention of/stronger hint at gratitude. I don't know. It just felt a little off, but it seems less of an issue the more I reread, so that could just be me.

a can / of treacle, dripping slowly as in sand / where I had poured it.

Here I get confused. I'd originally read this as the N pouring the treacle onto sand in the shape of letters, which made more sense to me, though I found the can of treacle metaphor a little hard to map onto the graceful, wondrous, wheeling birds -- but, Ok, I guess maybe it's just illuminating the N's own word/thought-formation process, which is slow and maybe sticky/viscous. And the birds, spelling out words a letter at at time, would also be slow to form complete words and sentences -- though their movement wouldn't be.

Rereading, though, given the past perfect, "where I had poured it", it seems to say is that the treacle has already been poured. The N pours a tin of treacle (as if onto sand), and having poured it, it then drips -- and this is what we're comparing to. I don't really know how a tinful of treacle behaves once it's been poured on sand -- I've had sheltered life, I guess! Does it drip after it's been poured? Maybe it's a beach and there's a slope and that's why it drips? I could imagine it spreading out slowly. Maybe forming sand-covered globules in the process? Is that what's intended? I'm mostly just confused here. As above, I'd understand, "dripping slowly onto sand as I poured it". One process mirroring the other. The treacle does also seem somewhat at odds with the rest of the poem's imagery, but maybe would seem less so if I understood it better.

I wondered if there was an alternative to "writing letters", which can convey pen and paper, and missives composed and sent -- unless that's what you want. I think from context, though, that this isn't meant -- and you just mean they're forming letter-shapes -- but postal letter-writing still suggests itself to me. But maybe that's what you want? But if not, maybe "tracing letters" maybe, though I guess "tracing" might imply their movement marks out the letters rather than their relative location. Or maybe "shaping letters" and then the "runes they form"?

Since the N is watching a murmuration of starlings, I wonder if there's some scope for using that word, or "murmur"/"murmuring" in the poem -- maybe even for the title? Murmuring (as a form of speaking) seems to fit with the word-forming, as if the starlings murmur the N's thoughts. Maybe "murmurings imbued" could replace "polymorph", for example, since it implies that and also more?

Undoubtedly a personal preference, but I'm not a fan of the semicolon here at the close. It seems to serves the same function as the "and" -- joining together two independent clauses. Maybe a dash or a comma?

best,

Matt

[Ashley Bowen]

Hi, Simon,

I enjoyed this, but I have to admit that I found the second half more charming than the first half. I really didn't like the way the poem gets off the ground with "In Central Park . . ." My impulse is to make the poem begin, "The legend says one hundred starlings soared / in Central Park that year because a bored ..." I know that adds some words, and I apologize for being intrusive but I think it's important that the legend get established right away.

The "teem/deem" rhyme didn't work for me, though I like the idea.

I think you can do better than "sea to shining sea" as well as the "sky/my" rhyme.

For me, this is the weakest section:

of treacle, dripping slowly as in sand
where I had poured it. Words of gratitude

I really, really like the end. It brought to mind the Stokesbury poem, "The Lover Remembereth . . ." but not any any direct way (that's just the way my mind works).

On a craft level, I would space this differently--erratically even in the beginning and have the spacing get closer and closer until it ends in a couplet to show a marriage of form and content. The current format feels claustrophobic to me. That's probably just me, though.

I enjoyed this. Thanks for letting me read and respond.

[Simon Hunt]

Thanks, Folks! I'm tinkering with this and have already retitled it above. More revisions may follow. In particular, I'm thinking about that can of treacle, which seems an important image to me, but it may be a darling I have to kill (or save for another poem).

Thanks, Glenn. I'm not ambivalent about starlings. I effing love 'em. I don't think treacle in sand is particularly a UK thing. I'm glad you heard what I was going for with the enjambment.

Thank you, Matt. What a thorough and generous reading! I'm glad you see most of what I am going for here, and your thoughts will be most helpful as I consider revisions. I have already taken you up on your suggestion for incorporating "murmuration," using it as the title--and I flatter myself it's a significant improvement.

Thank, Ashley. That treacle... Thinking... I'm glad to know the second half works well for you, and your thoughts will be useful as I move forward.

[Roger Slater]

Maybe add a blank line after the colon? It feels like there's a slight turn at that point, and a blank line would reinforce that idea while also giving some breathing room. If you add a blank line, you might even change the colon to a comma, since the blank line would give you the pause you're after. (Personally, I wouldn't mind even more blank lines, and perhaps even divided individual lines, just to guide the reader a bit more in terms of pacing and phrasing, and to add some variety to the rhythmic sameness of couplet after couplet. But I'll settle for a blank line after "alone:").

[Simon Hunt]

Thanks, Roger! I didn't think this so long as to be overwhelming with its couplets. But I've taken your response as the justification to pull the trigger on a whole set of small spacing/pacing changes. Does it make any difference for you? Does it look anything like a murmuration of starlings, shaping and reshaping itself?

[Roger Slater]

Yes, it looks/reads better that way in my opinion. I didn't consciously think that the format looked like a murmuration, but now that you mention it, I see what you mean and perhaps it comes across on an unconsious level. (I've never done a shape poem, but I wonder if you could format it even more like a murmuration. You wouldn't have to make the rhyme words come at the end of a line for that approach. Anyway, I'm not sure that's the way to go. I mention it only as something you might want to play with.)

[Simon Hunt]

I tried a revision above that gets rid of the treacle image that several found distracting. Any better? Thank you!

[Hilary Biehl]

I also found the treacle image distracting or confusing. I think the poem is much cleaner now.

I'm not sure about "into things, then other things." I understand it's the changing shapes of the flocks of birds as well as N's thoughts, but it sounds a little ... generic? There might be something better that could go there. But overall, a good revision, I think.