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Under tab of the same name, here in the sandbox!
Short prose-poem, thought I'd subject it to the masses!
Thanks again! Love ya.
—oli
Fires rage just below the surface of the ice.
Due to the poem's rather brief length I don't have that much (in-depth ground) to cover—the bulk of the aspects I'm touching crit upon are, as with quite a bit of things, up to personal taste. Some alternative titles skimmed with the mesh sliced, braided together with a copper coat hanger from an abandoned screen door off the filtration pond of an deep fried ten PM brain:
A Coda Of Fission
Topical Reactions Like Sparklers
A Fissure, Exothermic Mitosis in A Ribcage Of Phosphor
To preface, I enjoyed the work, the way the paragraph and imagery--traces of mythology and fine-grain physics were arranged, interlaced between more poignant, punchy descriptions were reminiscent of older (fifties, sixties mid century) works—the stuff bound and laminated straight from snail-mail drafts postmarked with an curling iron, or mashed tobacco, amber spirits from a dust-laden fire escape, a chai stand in Kabul, Tehran—in the last rare days before the revolution or the rear deck of a Soviet liner off the Red Sea, cutting through coastal swells. For substance I would say for what its worth, it carries its own weight, maybe a bit sparse on the surface in terms of describing off-world warfare? I think maybe some descriptions are, if a bit vague, but of course, if its meant to be a appetizer or prelude/sister piece to another story then I'd for sure say that it's got enough meat.
The imagery serves its intended purpose but yet strikes a balance as an overlay for other, more (more metaphysical, I believe that's the term) fronts. The only aspects that I would see enhanced or expanded upon via minor changes are pretty inconsequential, that being the lines: 'the ocean, or of a bright jewel', I think it would be a bit more fluid, or at the very least—aesthetically pleasing if the 'bright jewel' is to be reworked into something like 'the ocean, or of a jeweled scarab', the subsequent trailing line rearranged to reflect: 'sapphire and celluoid spinning (or kneading, for a more 'plastic' action beat perhaps?)in void'.
The passage: 'Science is wonder, is history
of great stellar wars,
battles fought with gravity
instead of guns.' admittingly can use a bit of pep, it can possibly serve to be a bit more interesting if it's something along these lines—-
'science is manufactured wonder, is history
of great stellar wars
offensives waged with titanium hulls
imploding with
gravity instead of molten lead'
Other then that, however, I find it ready to go—it won't hurt, though to let it brew a little bit more if you see fit. Can't wait to see it up there!
I love the naming suggestions, will definitely play with them! Especially that first one caught my fancy, thank you. And you are somewhat right in thinking this is a sister piece to a greater whole, but it is in very very early stages in a word document somewhere in my secret cashe.
Your input is as invaluable as ever, and your choke-hold on words and sentence structure is ever-enviable! But I believe that the poem has failed quite a bit, or at least has misdirected you, for it was never meant to be a work science fiction. Or at least not directly. Not men fighting in the stars, sailing great metal war machines to and fro, but rather a comparison drawn between:
— Men fighting on earth, folly of follies, which the work states is the effect of wonder (science?)
And,
— Stars fighting in space, wonder, the cause of said follies.
The posit that the stars 'fight' is rather fantastical, but intentionally so. Its characterization, personification. I think I've remixed some of the paragraphs to better convey this, and have pretty much adapted your suggestion on the 'science is wonder' paragraph, though I still think it could be spruced up. But do you think this comes across properly?
Thanks again though, I think I'll keep this on the grill a little longer, if just to caramelize those oily secretions.
Fires rage just below the surface of the ice.
I gave your reworked passages a read through—the flow's much better in terms of concept presentation. Now that a day or two has passed with time to mull over your concern about the poem's impressions of science being 'awe', a metaphorical tapestry of rapture pinned solely to let the sunlight trace its repeating print instead to shield the room from the heat, I think an passage or two about the effect that these revelations bring upon the narrator--maybe the following changes are a bit radical, but I think if incorporated they can add a few more notches, or markings to the content depth.
Original paragraph:
To marvel in this pagan science,
at brother, father, mother,
is man's cosmic folly.
Wonder, wonder:
so beneath this sun
I wonder, wonder why?
to all the follies of man.
Something along these lines might work a little bit better:
To marvel in these pagan rituals
at the shrouded remains of tritum
overextending like an fissured petri dish
or cathode beam arranging singular values
crimson-ceylon riptide-cormorant jade—brothermotherfather
prodigal-multipliers manifesting
man's cosmic folly
I wonder, wonder why?
To all our shortcomings, cooling dissected
in chain theories and
formaldehyde
To dissect the changes further, think of some scientific process that occurs much like some sun/star (I hope I don't sound like I'm writing the body of a PHD dissertation—I'm just an ordinary guy trying to study for a Comms degree lol), in this case I used the inner workings of an cathode ray tube TV and biological dissection to mimic the physical process of an star and evoke a 'sciency' tone, in a sense. Feel free to use my example, if you like! If you're unsure of the impact that it might have on the preceding/subsequent passages feel free to ask, I got some potential ideas.
I hazard to believe it's ready now, after an almost complete overhaul. There were some things off about the DNA of this, but gene-therapy has made leaps and bounds in these few days. Thank you for your work in reviewing, it would have been much worse a poem without your help. And it would be much better a poem if I took more of your help, but perhaps then not enough of myself would be in its blood. Your style is so infectious I think I may need an antiviral prescription! But, as to preserve both of our circulatory systems, I've capped it off. In all seriousness, thank you.
I owe you one (something or other). Need anything, I'm probably out there wasting time doing something awful like studying, and would much rather help you in doing something important, ha.
—Oli
Fires rage just below the surface of the ice.
Aye, many thanks Oligarch. I believe I owe you something too, down the road for some favors you have done for me in the past. I'm finishing some stuff for Migratory Snowbird (crit link is in this forum but has not been answered), I'm not sure if you're interested in taking a look over or not, seeing how it's almost close to being released, but I would appreciate an extra pair of eyes, if possible.
