[Julie Steiner]

Hi, Alex!

As others have noted, there's not a lot of plot or emotional development here — it's more of a sketchbook of impressionistic scenes. Which is okay, but I still feel as if my inner weather should be changed more than it is, after reading a poem that's this long.

Picky little details:

I wondered how the Colorado and the Rio Grande ended up in the same poem, since the two rivers are pretty far apart.

I really don't get this bit:

For truth, I chart the codex like a map.
[Cross-posted—it's now revised to:
The codex close at hand—a kind of map.]

A codex is anything in the form of a book, almost always with a bound spine. In the library world, it's a term used to distinguish books from scrolls or loose pages. Has the narrator has brought a book along hiking? (I thought it might be a guidebook, but "like a map" suggests otherwise, because guidebooks usually contain maps.) Are the different strata of the exposed cliff-sides being compared to the edge of a book? Is this a non-sequitur reference to the Bible? I'm stumped.

The reference to genuflecting mesas made me want to picture the scree at the bottom of close-to-vertical cliffs looking like kneeling legs. But as Hilary noted, a genuflection is a motion rather than a static position. And generally a genuflection bends one knee forward and one knee downward, before rising again.

[I like what you've done in this revision to vary the "Time" repetend.]

Cheers,
Julie

[Alex Pepple]

Hello, Julie,

I've just realized I never replied to your thoughtful comments and suggestions here all this time—so thank you for the close reading and for taking the time to offer such detailed observations!

First, regarding your entirely valid question about the Colorado and the Rio Grande appearing in the same poem: I was aiming to evoke a sweeping journey rather than suggest a single, fixed locale. Still, your comment made me realize that the shift could feel abrupt or geographically confusing. To help clarify this, I’ve tweaked one line in the third stanza from:

“To hymns that echo in a fiery sky.”

to:

“To hymns through lands vast as the sky.”

So, there’s now a subtle but clearer indication of a directional journey that allows both rivers to coexist naturally within the speaker’s expansive travel.

Your note about the line with “codex” was also spot-on. I’ve now revised it to:

A guidebook close at hand refines the map.

That feels more grounded, and avoids the ambiguity of “codex,” which was probably leaning too far into the abstract for that moment in the poem.

As for the “genuflecting mesas”—you and Hilary were in sync there! That word has now been retired (you probably crossposted with my edits and missed that change!), and the line reads:

“Here, mesas lie prostrate against the wind,”

which I hope retains the reverent tone while eliminating the problematic implication of motion.

Thanks again for everything you noted here. I found it all helpful and thought-provoking—and it definitely guided the latest round of refinements!

Cheers,
…Alex