[Matt Q]

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Filaments [R1]


The world’s longest-lasting lightbulb was installed in 1901
and still lights up the fire department in Livermore, California.
Livermore, scholars say, was a poem Poe discarded, a remaking
of the Prometheus myth, in which it’s a raven that pecks out
the god of fire’s liver. In 1924 a cartel curtailed the lifespan
of the lightbulb, inventing built-in obsolescence. Yesterday
my bedroom's long-life bulb began to fade and flicker. Unscrewing it,
I dropped it. Specialised glass smashed into a thousand slivers,
my own life long enough to pick up each one and hardly miss
the time. A tiny beak of glass slid in beneath my fingernail,
drawing blood. This morning I was awoken by your voice.
You said my name. Just once. Your tone, the tone of one
who sought to wake me. The ending of a poem is a place
of gathering together, a knitting of frayed threads to forge
a nest: How long a light endures. How bright its shining
incandescence. The flickering, the going out. The shattering
and the clearing up. The finding of black feathers in the morning.


L6 cut "bedroom's" before "long-life bulb"
L12 "the tone of the one" -> "the tone of one" (typo)
L14 "a knotting of frayed threads to shape a nest" replaces "a ravelling of themes".
L14 "knotting"->"knitting", "shape" -> "forge"




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Filaments

The world’s longest-lasting lightbulb was installed in 1901
and still lights up the fire department in Livermore, California.
Livermore, scholars say, was a poem Poe discarded, a remaking
of the Prometheus myth, in which it’s a raven that pecks out
the god of fire’s liver. In 1924, a cartel curtailed the lifespan
of the lightbulb, inventing built-in obsolescence. Yesterday
my bedroom's long-life bulb began to fade and flicker. Unscrewing it,
I dropped it. Specialised glass smashed into a thousand slivers,
my life long enough to pick up each one and hardly miss
the time. A tiny beak of glass slid in beneath my fingernail,
drawing blood. This morning I was awoken by your voice.
You said my name. Just once. Your tone, the tone of the one
who sought to wake me. The ending of a poem is a place
of gathering together, a ravelling of themes: How long a light
endures. How bright its shining incandescence. The flickering,
the going out. The shattering and the clearing up.
The finding of black feathers in the morning.

[Jim Moonan]

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I often pick up a book of poems and randomly pick one to read. The Eratosphere is like a book to me. Just now I had a moment to stop in and found this poem had just been posted. It arrested me and gave me what I hope for in a poem.

I know you well enough to know how disciplined you are at workshopping your poems (and commenting on others' poems), so, as is typical of my comments, this one will not turn over any stones for you to consider. But as a reader, I would be disappointed to see anything changed. If poems were keys to locked doors, this one works. Well, there is one thing:

L7: I think you need the preposition "to" before "fade".

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[Hilary Biehl]

Hi Matt, this feels disjointed to me at the beginning but I think that's what you were going for. It does come together more at the end and even comments on that fact, so it feels intentional. I love the last few lines. The "tiny beak of glass" is wonderful.

A couple small suggestions - to me, "awakened" sounds better than "awoken." Also, you might cut "shining" from L15 and just say "How bright its incandescence." You already have two words evoking brightness so "shining" feels unnecessary.

[W T Clark]

This justifies it's associative logic. It's wonnnderful. It would have a place in LM if desired.

[Joe Crocker]

Hi Matt

Some satisfying themes and wordplay woven together here. Lots of Lights, Longs and Lifes.

I did wonder whether "specialised glass" could be "designer glass" which fits in with the built-in obsolesence. And I agree with Hilary that you might delete "shining".

Ravelled is a lovely word that actually means "unravelled" and I wondered whether that was what you meant. I want to read your meaning as supporting (rather than contradicting) the "gathering together" that precedes it. But maybe you don't. Or maybe you are happy with the ambiguity.

And I do like the introduction of the mysterious other voice that calls your name and the black feathers at the end.

Cheers

Joe

[John Riley]

Brillant, Matt. The ending is moving and right. You may some great decisions. Take Cam up on his offer.

[Nick McRae]

Originally Posted by Matt Q

.
Filaments

The world’s longest-lasting lightbulb was installed in 1901
and still lights up the fire department in Livermore, California.
Livermore, scholars say, was a poem Poe discarded, a remaking
of the Prometheus myth, in which it’s a raven that pecks out
the god of fire’s liver. In 1924, a cartel curtailed the lifespan
of the lightbulb, inventing built-in obsolescence. Yesterday
my bedroom's long-life bulb began to fade and flicker. Unscrewing it,
I dropped it. Specialised glass smashed into a thousand slivers,
my life long enough to pick up each one and hardly miss
the time. A tiny beak of glass slid in beneath my fingernail,
drawing blood. This morning I was awoken by your voice.
You said my name. Just once. Your tone, the tone of the one
who sought to wake me. The ending of a poem is a place
of gathering together, a ravelling of themes: How long a light
endures. How bright its shining incandescence. The flickering,
the going out. The shattering and the clearing up.
The finding of black feathers in the morning.

Matt,

I also really liked this one. The blue highlights are a few things that stood out to me.

The first line, I liked it, but no matter how many times I go through it it reads a little awkwardly to me. It's hard to tell if that's intentional, but to me it broke the flow of the poem. I got caught up and had to go back and parse it again.

The next highlight just didn't feel right to me, even if you're going for unconventional syntax. Maybe you could go with 'underneath'.

Otherwise greatly enjoyed, maybe just give the sheet another a few tugs if you're so inclined.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Matt—

It took me a few readings to figure out why I found this piece so moving.
I finally concluded that your N’s use of random trivia and humor in the “Dad joke” about Poe, Prometheus, and Livermore was attempting to disguise his shock and grief at the sudden ending of his love affair. After shattering the fragile incandescent bulb of his romance, he has to clean up the fragments, injures himself further in the process, and the black raven feathers remind him that his love will be nevermore.

[Trevor Conway]

Hi Matt,

I nearly turned away from this after reading the first few lines, as it felt like an information dump up until I got to the personal stuff ("Yesterday" onwards). It got much more interesting from there, I thought. I wonder if the information can be fitted in elsewhere. I've given an example below, as well as making other changes just for clarity of illustration. Take or leave whatever suits, and feel free to ask any questions. [bold = suggested deletions]


All the best,

Trev

Filaments [How about just "Filament"?]

Yesterday my bedroom's long-life bulb began to fade and flicker. Unscrewing it,
I dropped it[, and s]pecialised glass smashed into a thousand slivers,
my life long enough to pick up each one and hardly miss the time.
A tiny beak of glass slid in beneath my fingernail, drawing blood.

Livermore, scholars say, was where the world’s longest-lasting lightbulb was installed,
in 1901.
[It] still lights up the fire department [there].
[Delete the stuff about Poe, I think]
In 1924, a cartel curtailed [its] lifespan
inventing built-in obsolescence. [Did they really "invent" built-in obsolescence? It seems like a big claim that might not be possible to verify]

This morning I was awoken by your voice.
You said my name.
Just once.
Your tone, the tone of the one who sought to wake me.

The ending of a poem is a place
of gathering together, a ravelling of themes:
How long a light endures.
How bright its shining incandescence.
The flickering,
the going out.
The shattering and the clearing up.
The finding of black feathers in the morning.

[I like the direction you take towards the end. It's unexpected and interesting]

[Nick McRae]

Originally Posted by Glenn Wright

Hi, Matt—

It took me a few readings to figure out why I found this piece so moving.
I finally concluded that your N’s use of random trivia and humor in the “Dad joke” about Poe, Prometheus, and Livermore was attempting to disguise his shock and grief at the sudden ending of his love affair. After shattering the fragile incandescent bulb of his romance, he has to clean up the fragments, injures himself further in the process, and the black raven feathers remind him that his love will be nevermore.

This might be another point to mention. If the references to Poe and Prometheus were supposed to add meaning and subtext to the poem, they didn't for me as I'm unfamiliar.

Overall, I still enjoyed the poem, but I did feel there was something I wasn't picking up on there, and maybe needed to. As if the references were a little too hidden.