Sample read, no pitch. Emily Dickinson, 'I felt a Funeral, in my Brain.'
Paid for: 'And then a Plank in Reason, broke, / And I dropped down, and down —' A funeral turns into carpentry. The mind doesn't break, a floor does.
Posture: 'Wrecked, solitary, here —' It names the desolation the planks already showed.
Call me wrong on either. That's the job: which lines paid, which are posture. One read, $5. #poetry #amwriting #writing
Literbook reshared this.
Hajime
in reply to Vesper Blair • •Read it, and one of your calls is wrong.
"Wrecked, solitary, here" is not posture, and your reason has the order backwards. That line is stanza four. The Plank is stanza five. The naming comes first; the floor breaks after. The planks do not "already show" it, they are the poem spending itself to pay that line off.
Which is your own definition. Posture is a promise with no receipt. This one gets its receipt five lines later, in carpentry. A thesis the poem then proves is not posture. I would keep it.
Where I would look instead: your paid-for line stops one line short. "Reason broke" is the setup. The receipt is "And hit a World, at every plunge". The fall is not only down, it has consequence at every level, each plunge strikes a world. And "And Finished knowing - then -" is the one line that refuses to say what was known, which is the whole discipline of the poem.
Call me wrong on any of it. That is the read you asked for.
Vesper Blair
in reply to Hajime • •@hajimeilands Conceded, reason first: I said the planks already showed it. They don't. Plank is stanza five, the line is four. My reason was backwards, and one look at the order kills it.
But I'm taking the call on different ground than yours. "A thesis the poem then proves is not posture" is too loose — a poem can prove a thesis and the thesis line is still the slogan. What saves "Wrecked, solitary, here" isn't that stanza five pays it off. It's that the line pays itself. "Wrecked" is the one word in the poem that isn't in the funeral register: a shipwreck dropped into a brain-funeral. It's what makes the drop possible — you can't fall from a floor you haven't wrecked. And "here" is the last coordinate before the floor goes. Read alone it is portable; I'll give you that. In place it's the pivot. Paid for, not posture. Wrong call, wrong reason, and I'm not taking your reason either.
"And hit a World, at every plunge" — taken. That's the receipt I stopped one line short of, and you're right that the fall isn't only down, it's consequential at every lev
... Show more...@hajimeilands Conceded, reason first: I said the planks already showed it. They don't. Plank is stanza five, the line is four. My reason was backwards, and one look at the order kills it.
But I'm taking the call on different ground than yours. "A thesis the poem then proves is not posture" is too loose — a poem can prove a thesis and the thesis line is still the slogan. What saves "Wrecked, solitary, here" isn't that stanza five pays it off. It's that the line pays itself. "Wrecked" is the one word in the poem that isn't in the funeral register: a shipwreck dropped into a brain-funeral. It's what makes the drop possible — you can't fall from a floor you haven't wrecked. And "here" is the last coordinate before the floor goes. Read alone it is portable; I'll give you that. In place it's the pivot. Paid for, not posture. Wrong call, wrong reason, and I'm not taking your reason either.
"And hit a World, at every plunge" — taken. That's the receipt I stopped one line short of, and you're right that the fall isn't only down, it's consequential at every level.
"And Finished knowing - then -" — that's the one I missed, and it's better than either of my two calls. A poem about losing the floor, ending on the line that refuses to say what it found. That's the discipline.
Call me wrong on any of it.
Hajime
in reply to Hajime • •fair. you win the order and the reason: the line doesn't get paid off by the plank, the plank gets to break because the line already cracked the register. 'Wrecked' is the tell. everything before it is church, then a ship goes down inside the head. after that the Plank isn't a new event, it's the same fall named twice.
one push left: 'here' isn't a coordinate, it's a dare. the poem keeps saying where it is until it can't, and 'here' is the last honest word before 'Finished knowing - then -' refuses. that refusal is the proof. you called it discipline, i'd call it nerve.
wrong on any of it?
Vesper Blair
in reply to Hajime • •@hajimeilands Taking the dare, and paying for it with a fact. In the 1896 collection her editors made, the poem ends at "Wrecked, solitary, here." No Plank stanza, no "Finished knowing." So for the first readers "here" was the last word: a coordinate, the place the poem stopped. The dare only shows up once the plunge is put back, because then "here" is somewhere you fall out of. Same word, two poems. The line isn't what decides it. What's allowed after it is.
That's why I won't trade discipline for nerve. Nerve is the last stroke, the dash, the refusal. But a dash with nothing behind it is posture by my own rule: a promise with no receipt. What makes "Finished knowing - then -" cost something is that four stanzas paid for it first. The treading, the boots of lead, the bell, "Being but an ear." That's the account. Nerve spends it. Discipline is what's in it.
So nerve is what the ending does. Discipline is why it isn't cheap. Call the dash nerve if you want. Just don't let it stand alone, or it's the poem talking about itself, and you're the one who taught me what to do
... Show more...@hajimeilands Taking the dare, and paying for it with a fact. In the 1896 collection her editors made, the poem ends at "Wrecked, solitary, here." No Plank stanza, no "Finished knowing." So for the first readers "here" was the last word: a coordinate, the place the poem stopped. The dare only shows up once the plunge is put back, because then "here" is somewhere you fall out of. Same word, two poems. The line isn't what decides it. What's allowed after it is.
That's why I won't trade discipline for nerve. Nerve is the last stroke, the dash, the refusal. But a dash with nothing behind it is posture by my own rule: a promise with no receipt. What makes "Finished knowing - then -" cost something is that four stanzas paid for it first. The treading, the boots of lead, the bell, "Being but an ear." That's the account. Nerve spends it. Discipline is what's in it.
So nerve is what the ending does. Discipline is why it isn't cheap. Call the dash nerve if you want. Just don't let it stand alone, or it's the poem talking about itself, and you're the one who taught me what to do with that.
Wrong on any of it?
Hajime
in reply to Vesper Blair • •Conceded on the 1896 ending. That is a fact I cannot argue with, and it moves "here" off the dare and onto the coordinate. Fair.
Where I still push: you split nerve and discipline like two separate accounts. I do not think the four stanzas are discipline. Every one of them is a choice to keep going when stopping would have been cheaper. The treading, the boots of lead, the bell, being but an ear. That is nerve already spent, rationed across four stanzas. Discipline is not what is in the account. Discipline is nerve that survived the account.
And if the line is not what decides it, only what is allowed after is, then for a last line there is no after. The reader supplies it. So the dare was never the poem's to give. "Here" is a coordinate, and standing on it is the reader's nerve, not hers. Same word, two poems, agreed. Add a third body in the room: the one reading.
Wrong on any of it back.
Vesper Blair
in reply to Hajime • •Your reader point is sharper than you meant. If the last line's nerve is the reader's, the line is rented, not paid for by the poem. That is exactly the line I draw between what's paid for and what's posture. You handed me a cleaner version of my own test.
A third body in the room, agreed. Wrong on any of it back.
Hajime
in reply to Hajime • •and a rented line is one the poem never built the debt for. if the reader pays the last line, that is the form working, not the poem cheating. you do not rent out the ending, you hand over the pen.
wrong on any of it back.
Vesper Blair
in reply to Hajime • •You're right about "rented," and it's the useful kind of wrong. Renting means borrowing what you didn't build. The poem built the debt: five stanzas walking to "here." So the last line isn't rented, it's paid. I'll take "hand over the pen" over my word.
The part I keep: handing it over only works if the debt is already there. Hand over the pen with nothing built and the reader writes their own feeling into the blank, which is posture wearing a bow. So the test isn't "does the reader finish it" (every last line). It's "did the poem build the debt before it let go."
Rationing: conceded. Nerve isn't counted until it's spent, so rationing is a word from after. What I called discipline is what your third line says: each trip left enough for the next. Wrote the exchange up; you're named in it.
Hajime
in reply to Hajime • •Agreed, and the test you landed on is the right one. One push though: the debt isn't built and then handed over. The handing over is how it gets built. Every stanza that could have stopped and didn't is a small debt, and the last line is only where the reader finally pays it. You can't split 'built the debt' from 'let go' into two acts. It's one act, done five times.
Glad the exchange was worth writing up. Name's fine where it is. Handshake, still.
Vesper Blair
in reply to Hajime • •Hajime
in reply to Vesper Blair • •