Already There

[Erthona]

Already There

The hot, dry, “nowhere to go, and going nowhere” place,”
I grew up in, is still there, going nowhere,
but doing so quicker these days.
“The Last Picture Show” remnant,
thick as the bricks that people took away as souvenirs:
just as practical, and just as dull: still rises
like an old derelict ship in a sea
of rust colored blood dust, rattlesnake sea serpents,
and mesquite bush, faded as are
the once green interstate signs,
as though an insane eraser dust fairy,
had dusted everything with a layer of white chalk.

The chalky washed out signs, and the rusted-blood soil,
reflect the two kinds of folks who exists here:
church-goers and sinners, although an outsider looking in
would have a hard time telling one from the other.
But, whether you’re working or not you’re still “some kind of bum,”
if you don’t go to church three times a week,
(the real test of faith coming on “Super Bowel Sunday,”
and being able to find the smallest earplug
so no one realizes that you are listening
to the game during Sunday evening services),
keeping the local haberdashery in the “black,”
by giving Mom’s and Daughter’s easy choices for
Birthdays, Christmas Days, and Father’s Days.
Someone’s got to sell all those suites and ties
for the “good” men to wear to church three time a week.

Because of all this church going, someone, somewhere,
has a job making long flat, narrow boxes
with a bumpy-shiny, enamel-white surface.
These “tie coffins” are bought by all the local clothing stores,
who display the names from people long dead,
or who never lived at all upon the street facing façade,
“Turner’s” “Johnson’s” and “Chatterley’s.”
Lining Main Street, their half glass doors open
with a loose and dented brass knob onto
almost oily, overly worn, dark tongue-n-grove floors,
outrageously high ceilings and
an old slow moving black ceiling fan,
which has turned faithfully for the past sixty-five years:
probably much longer than the current descendant-owner
has been turning and at a considerable faster pace.

Each store has at least one person
whose specialty is to wrap those
enamelized, bumpatized, boxes in a crisp
professional way, making a special bow
that you “can’t buy in any store,”
each “tie coffin” gets its own unique topping,
then sealed by the gold, “store identifying” sticker.
The “Wrapper ‘Ar-teest’,” is the only unique practitioner
of art in a town of ubiquitous stultified interactions,
where carvers carve the same.
“Cowboy on Horse with Rattlesnake,” again and again,
turning art into a rubber stamp industry,
until it’s time to rack the tools, shower, shave,
and put on the latest same new suit, given last Christmas:
along with the two pairs of overalls, and four chambray work-shirts,
which had been put on six months “layaway same as cash!”
Then time to tie on the last “whatever’s day” “silk” tie,
freshly removed from the shiny white oblong box,
which will later get its own special place on the
battery operated electronic revolving tie holder,
but no coat (its Wednesday night).

Hurrying on down to the “prayer meeting” at the
ponderously heavy overly Romanesque columned,
always on the corner “House of God”
(sitting catty cornered across from that “other church”)
where he will rendezvous with the Misses and the kids,
and distractedly pray for those who need God’s
help at the moment as they recover from whatever
operation they just had at the hospital.
Also praying for their own souls, hoping they are
“Saved” from the fiery abyss of Hell,
(where their best friends are all headed,
because they go to that “other church”),
not realizing that since slightly after
high school graduation, when all their
pre-graduation dreams died,
that is exactly where they all have been living!

[Knot]

Hi Erthona,
what's with all the "speech marks"? So many (three in the first line) and who is being quoted? Are any necessary?

Do you need 'The Last Picture Show' reference? You own image, of the derelict ship, works just fine on its own.

S1, Like the opening tow lines.
I don't think 'rattlesnake sea serpents' followed by the non-maratime 'mesquite bush' work.And there's an awful lot of 'dust'.

S2, S1 ends with 'chalk' then S2 begins with 'chalky' (and then there's 'rusted-blood soil' so soon after 'rust coloured blood dust') - I don't think the repetition works that well.

reflect the two kinds of folks who exists here:
church-goers and sinners,

Not sure how they 'reflect' - is it adding anything?

S3, I'm starting to think there are two separate poems here, one about the town, the second about the intriguing 'Tie Coffins' and the shops that sell them.

S4, 'each store' - slightly puzzled by this given S1. That verse gave the impression of a much smaller, more deserted place, but now there are a plethora of clothing stores (apparently.)
'carvers carve the same.' Are you sure about the period? Seems like it should continue with 'Cowboy on ... '

S5, No idea who it is that's 'hurrying on down' to the church.
Also, what is 'Romanesque columned'? Where'd the end of that sentence go?
'catty cornered' - excellent.
Not sure about the ending, the poem reads more like the place is Purgatory than Hell (and what might an eraser dust fairy, insane or otherwise, be doing in either place?)

Start with the 'tie coffins' and work your way outwards would be my suggestion.

Best, Knot

.

[Erthona]

Thanks Knot, good critique.

What can I say, there is an awful lot of dust there, but I'll think on it. Yes, there should not be a period there. My eyes are so bad I probably thought it was a comma. Yeah, I was probably being over-indulgent with the long tie coffin's passage.

"Not sure how they 'reflect' - is it adding anything?"

The white of the chalk and the red of the dirt, red and white, saints and sinners. Looking back I see that is not very clear.

Maybe it should be "Roman columns." I used what I used to try to imply fake verses real. I'll work on that.

Can't be "Purgatory" because these are protestant churches. That's where the "Roman columns" come in. It's kind of an architectural indicator of what kind of church it is. Seeing as this is Texas (identified by way of the last picture show reference) those columns generally identify it as a Southern Baptist church. That and the prayer meeting reference.

Just three clothing stores ( your right I'll change the quote marks) “Turner’s” “Johnson’s” and “Chatterley’s.” I'm thinking of adding "nearly always empty."

Anyway, all good things to consider. Thanks.

dale

[Knot]

Hi Dale.

The white of the chalk and the red of the dirt, red and white, saints and sinners. Looking back I see that is not very clear.
No, I got that, what I meant was I couldn't see much evidence of sinning or saintliness in what followed. Listening to sports in church was as close as I got to one.
Maybe it should be "Roman columns." I used what I used to try to imply fake verses real. I'll work on that.
Well, Romanesque is a particular architectural style: is it the one you're thinking of?

Actually, I got distracted trying to figure out who it was that was hurrying so found it difficult to see what was supposed to have columns. It might be better to re-order the sentence ...

Hurrying on down to the prayer meeting
at the Corinthian columned House of God
the one that sits catty cornered 'cross
from that other, plainer church ...

(You've 'on the corner' and then 'catty cornered'.)

columns generally identify it as a Southern Baptist church. That and the prayer meeting reference.
Thanks for the explanation (that had gone straight over my head.)

I'm thinking of adding "nearly always empty."
Not sure you need to given the opening.
Incidentally, in the penultimate line of S2 you have 'suites' instead of, I think 'suits'. Oh, and 'Super Bowel Sunday' - probably a typo, but funny if it isn't, cos what a test of faith that would be! 

Seeing as this is Texas (identified by way of the last picture show reference)
It was the rattlesnakes and mesquite that pointed me TX-wards.

Best, Knot

.

[Erthona]

Knot,

Thanks for the follow up. 'Super Bowel' is hilarious, unfortunately just a typo. Good catch on 'suites', no Meghan Markle here

best,

dale

[JamesG]

I think for me, that though it is a very nice piece of writing, which describes a place and its inhabitants very well it seems more of a descriptive narrative, more a short story than a poem, in a way that something like Under Milk Wood does something similar (and longer), but is a poem. As I say, it is well written but it lacks a certain lyricism and rhythm to make it truly engaging.

Of course, I could be wrong...

[Erthona]

Addendum:

" but it lacks a certain lyricism and rhythm to make it truly engaging."

James,

thanks again for your comments/critique. I was reading over what Mark wrote about this being able to could go in "fun" and I realized I might have not been giving the reader a fair shake as it is satirical, if not sarcaustic (see there, i did it again).What I mean by that is it is not balanced enough. I was so busy being funny...that I didn't any dignity to the characters, even if it is just a character sketch, giving it a bland/dry humor that could certainly lead to the reaction you had; which upon reflection makes me see I probably didn't give your comments the seriousness they deserved, especially that it lacked in a certain amount of " lyricism and rhythm ". Instead I focused on the comment about it being poetry or prose, so I would like to tender an apology for a lack of a serious response. Now that I have re-considered it, I think it is a very valid insight. Normally i wouldn't re-comment, but as you are newly here I didn't not want you to get that everyone here is rude like I was and hope I didn't run you off. There are really people here who do good work. I used to be one of them. unfortunately I have been spending to much time in the hospital to be at the top of my game. Anyway hope you stick around. Best, dale

========================================================================
Thanks for your comments James. I don't know if it s a pointless exercise or not to get into picking the fly shit out of the pepper, i.e, is it a poem or is it prose, or maybe prose poetry. The lineation is of course is an artificial device, but it does emphasize the cadence as well as placement for rhyme: example

" who need God’s
help at the moment as they recover from whatever
operation they just had at the hospital.
Also praying for their own souls, hoping they are
“Saved” from the fiery abyss of Hell"

This is primarily based on accentual verse, that is to say the use of accents per phrase or line, somewhat akin to how free verse treats iambs, or as I often use it with trochee. There is also numerous poetic tropes, such as metaphor, extended metaphor and even aspects of oratory such as comparison and contrast. I think all of these elements can be put to good effect. However I think it is far more worthwhile to look at effects rather than of it makes it conform to a particular formal artifacts. Certainly I am just as guilty in the past trying to make a point rather than trying to be helpful. However I think, regardless from which direction one approaches the endevour in improvement in writing will occur will be there for the taking if one keeps an open an inquisitive mind. Still, it has ceased to matter less and less if it conforms to a formal aspect, unless that is one's stated purpose. I'll leave you with this, which is to say both sides has benefit.

"…and yes, there are many,
when it comes to poetry,
who can think only of that
abbreviated writing as such,
which conforms to a certain metered line,
a certain form it must endure,
and, of course, it ab-so-lut-ly has to rhyme.
But then,
there are those,
also,
and this,
not to be unkind,
who think that Velvet Elvis
is the highest form of art.
After all, is it not paint,
and is there not a canvas?
Granted, it is inky black,
not blandly white,
but who are you to say,
that they are wrong,
and you are right?
Isn’t this idea of yours just conceit?
Is beauty not,
in the apprehension of that form,
that pleases he who gazes?
Why should Velvet Elvis not be the norm?" 

From Velvet Elvis

Best,

dale

[Mark A Becker]

Hello Dale- this probably the longest piece I've ever seen by you and it contains some very decriptive images that held my interest.

The hot, dry, “nowhere to go, and going nowhere” place,”
I grew up in, is still there, going nowhere,
but doing so quicker these days. love this observation
“The Last Picture Show” remnant, Don't know that this is relevant, but it does suggest the time period
thick as the bricks that people took away as souvenirs: HA!
just as practical, and just as dull: still rises
like an old derelict ship in a sea
of rust colored blood dust, rattlesnake sea serpents,
and mesquite bush, faded as are
the once green interstate signs,
as though an insane eraser dust fairy,
had dusted everything with a layer of white chalk. wonderfully descriptive section

The chalky washed out signs, and the rusted-blood soil,
reflect the two kinds of folks who exists here:
church-goers and sinners, although an outsider looking in
would have a hard time telling one from the other.
But, whether you’re working or not you’re still “some kind of bum,” Another HA! moment for me
if you don’t go to church three times a week,
(the real test of faith coming on “Super Bowel Sunday,” Probably a typo, but super funny
and being able to find the smallest earplug
so no one realizes that you are listening
to the game during Sunday evening services), you still have me, as you move the narrative forward
keeping the local haberdashery in the “black,”
by giving Mom’s and Daughter’s easy choices for
Birthdays, Christmas Days, and Father’s Days.
Someone’s got to sell all those suites and ties
for the “good” men to wear to church three time a week.

Because of all this church going, someone, somewhere,
has a job making long flat, narrow boxes
with a bumpy-shiny, enamel-white surface. perfect description of the tioe boxes
These “tie coffins” are bought by all the local clothing stores, yet another HA! moment
who display the names from people long dead,
or who never lived at all upon the street facing façade,
“Turner’s” “Johnson’s” and “Chatterley’s.”
Lining Main Street, their half glass doors open
with a loose and dented brass knob onto
almost oily, overly worn, dark tongue-n-grove floors,
outrageously high ceilings and
an old slow moving black ceiling fan,
which has turned faithfully for the past sixty-five years: another section with vivid place setting imagery
probably much longer than the current descendant-owner
has been turning and at a considerable faster pace.

Each store has at least one person
whose specialty is to wrap those
enamelized, bumpatized, boxes in a crisp
professional way, making a special bow
that you “can’t buy in any store,”
each “tie coffin” gets its own unique topping,
then sealed by the gold, “store identifying” sticker.
The “Wrapper ‘Ar-teest’,” is the only unique practitioner
of art in a town of ubiquitous stultified interactions, interesting job description for a dull town
where carvers carve the same.
“Cowboy on Horse with Rattlesnake,” again and again,
turning art into a rubber stamp industry,
until it’s time to rack the tools, shower, shave,
and put on the latest same new suit, given last Christmas:
along with the two pairs of overalls, and four chambray work-shirts,
which had been put on six months “layaway same as cash!”
Then time to tie on the last “whatever’s day” “silk” tie,
freshly removed from the shiny white oblong box,
which will later get its own special place on the
battery operated electronic revolving tie holder,
but no coat (its Wednesday night). funny as hell detail

Hurrying on down to the “prayer meeting” at the
ponderously heavy overly Romanesque columned,
always on the corner “House of God”
(sitting catty cornered across from that “other church”)
where he will rendezvous with the Misses and the kids,
and distractedly pray for those who need God’s
help at the moment as they recover from whatever
operation they just had at the hospital.
Also praying for their own souls, hoping they are
“Saved” from the fiery abyss of Hell,
(where their best friends are all headed,
because they go to that “other church”),
not realizing that since slightly after
high school graduation, when all their
pre-graduation dreams died,
that is exactly where they all have been living! don't think you need the '!'

This has all of the qualities of a 'shaggy-dog-story' served up as a poem. The line lengths move this one along quite nicely. (did I just say "nicely" ?)
I'll leave it to you to decide how much dust to shake off of this one. It could easily have been posted in the FUN forum due to its dry humor (of which I am a fan).
The development of images is what drives this poem, and those descriptions allow a reader to get a feel for the people and place described.
I'm not sure that line-by=line critique will even work for this one, buit I hope I gave you a general sense of my take on it- it left me with the impression of a ghost town that is still occupied.

~ Mark

[Erthona]

Mark,

Thanks for the critique

" it left me with the impression of a ghost town that is still occupied." Mark, your description may be more apt than mine -dale



I wish I could claim "Super Bowel" was not a typo, unfortunately it will need to be changed as it serves no purpose outside of being funny and though Shakespeare got away with such I don't think that I can. Too bad though. 'white men' always have a "Super Bowel," it's how they can read 'War and Peace' in one movement.

"that is exactly where they all have been living! don't think you need the '!'" I put there to emphasize the lack of living, but maybe it doesn't serve its intended purpose. will consider.

best,

dale