[Paula Fernandez]

Coming Together, Coming Apart

The Grand Canyon, both American birthright and rite of passage. We have come early to avoid the crowds. And the crowds? They have come early to avoid us. The parking lots are filling with cars from every state of the union: F-150s next to Teslas, minivans next to Harley Davidsons. We, the People, have arrived to look out over our iconic shared horizon. We have come for Awe.

But how to find it? Nervous parents call their too-bold children back from the precipices. Slow moving groups create traffic jams on the ridge trail. We take turns helping each other get the requisite family photos—mom, dad, and kids crouching together under the yawning tent of the sky.

outside the rails
history paces slowly
past our cage

The viewing decks are packed, and we wait for our turn at the front. Pulling out the binoculars we scan the canyon floor below and see the muddy churning of the Colorado River – our featured artist—continuing its master work, indifferent to the critical response. Moving the binoculars upward, we see great birds of prey--black slashes in the fabric of the sky.

two eagles circling
--wait--
are they vultures?

[Jim Moonan]

.
Interesting form; wonderfully descriptive prose; intriguing haiku. I've only read it once and feel I've only scratched the surface of it in terms of absorbing the imagery and pent-up tension in it. There's something unquiet about it. The sense of awe coupled with a sense of disconnect. The stretch of time that has allowed the river to carve its masterpiece is juxtaposed with the fleeting time spent negotiating the crowds and dealing with the limited opportunity to capture the awe with a camera. Something like that.

The title might be the key to fully understanding this one. I haven't been able to unlock it. But I'm also just happy to see this form that blends prose and haiku. The final haiku is arresting.

At first I struggled with the opening line, but now I think it anchors the poem in its Americana roots.

My first and only visit to the Grand Canyon was overwhelming. It felt like it does when I'm trying to comprehend the vastness of the universe: incomprehensible. It was one of those experiences that brings to mind this passage from Eliot's the The Waste Land:

..............................I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.


It was something so awesome I was both overwhelmed and struck dumb at the same time.


.

[Jayne Osborn]

Hi Paula,
I'm sorry to be the 'bad cop', and I hate to thwart anyone's enthusiasm, but you've posted two poems in two days, which is against our Guidelines.

You should post no more than one new thread per week in the Metrical, Deep End, and Non-Metrical Forums combined.

This thread will have to be closed until it's eligible to be re-opened.

Jayne

[Jayne Osborn]

Hey, Paula, this one's good to go again!

Jayne

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Paula—

This brings me back to my one and only trip to the Grand Canyon as a kid.

I like “mom, dad and the kids crouching under the yawning tent of the sky,” but wasn’t quite sure what to make of this sentence:

Originally Posted by Paula Fernandez

Here at the canyon edge, we are too enmeshed in the lives and needs of others to cash out our ticket to grandeur.

The meshing, cashing, crouching, and yawning seem to teeter on the edge of mixed metaphor. Did you mean to suggest that the cooperative posing and equipment juggling needed to get the perfect family picture interfered with the enjoyment of the natural beauty?

I really like the last haiku.

two eagles circling
--wait--
are they vultures?

Glenn

[James Brancheau]

Hi Paula—The opening sentence is a bit like a voice-over for a 1950s documentary on the Grand Canyon. But I’ve kind of grown to like the rather removed tone of it—it seems spookily fitting for the poem. It has a bit of suspense to it as well, as if, in my imagined documentary, the other shoe is about to drop and the narrator is going to warn us that it has become a hub for drug dealers selling weed under the viewing deck. But this is probably just me, haha.

I’m not too fond of the title, but I do like poem. I might just title this The Grand Canyon as I think that alone works well as a metaphor for what I believe this poem is about. What you have now is a little heavy-handed, imo. I love that you are using the types of cars in the parking lot, right next to other, to illustrate our differences. The canyons between us, so to speak.

The least effective haiku for me is the middle one. It’s not terrible, but it’s not very interesting either. Not sure how to improve that—maybe the too-bold children are near the ledge, or something that signals that they are children… ?? Anyway, the other two I think are pretty good, though I’m not sure that the first one, coming so soon, is set up enough there. Both with “rails” and “cage” and also it seems to be a more encompassing statement, something suited for the close of a poem. Though I suppose you could say the same about the eagle/vulture one that ends the poem now. One of the reasons I think that one is effective is because it is something people say or think when they look at such big birds hovering high up. Vultures are always a thought for me, anyway.

I think that “to cash out our ticket to grandeur” is, well, too grand a statement. It threw me out of the poem a little. The last nit I have is the last image before the closing haiku. I think the birds are the black slashes, not carving them. I too like “the yawning tent of the sky.”

I enjoyed the read, Paula, and though I think this needs a little more work, I think it has very good bones, is fairly close.

[Paula Fernandez]

James--Thank you for your thoughtful reading. I have removed "carving" in last prose block at your suggestion. I think that's a big improvement. I have removed the second haiku which I agree was the weakest. I feel, however, that the title is pretty important to understanding the poem. The whole poem is basically my meditation on what feels like the extremely precarious state of the union in which we Americans currently find ourselves. On the one hand, we are still "coming together", helping each other with pictures, and looking for the beautiful potentials in our shared horizon. On the other hand, the vultures are circling and we are all getting in each others way trying to achieve our disparate aims.

Jim--Glad you enjoyed it and also struggled with it. It's definitely a poem about struggle! I made my only visit (with the family) to the GC this last spring break and found it overwhelming too. It made me feel extremely small and insignificant. One of those places custom made to give you an existential crisis.

Glenn--I took out the offending sentence and I think that improves it. Thank you, as always, for your generous reading.

I'm still noodling this one so really appreciate all the feedback and support. It's getting closer to my intention now.