i drive
Hwy 20 the south
side of the
Sutter Buttes - westward
the road is lined with
nut and peach orchards
empty cornfields, tomato fields - Corriera's boarded up fruit stand
CLOSED
ahead, i see
there are dead things
all along the two lane road
i see them
black things,
dead things - they are lying
in the middle, along the side
ditched things, deserted dogs
dead things
black things, skunks
bloodied beavers, big black
birds, buzzards half winged and wet in stench
tales in my ear- turn, my right ear - turn
take the river road, it says, the
river road - just take it, now
my mind is
muddled, mocked to indecision
i mull it over, then again
No, no i can't , i won't take it - there are ghosts on the
river road, ghosts of old barge men, there are ghosts
of the raped and murdered, ghosts of lost
children longtime drowned - they will stop me, they always
stop me - they always ask me,
Why do they only see dead things?
driving on west, i see dead things
black
bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011
Made some of the changes Luke recommended - thanks Luke for input...bkm
I frequent this hwy every week...along it I always see black things...my mind pictures dead things - from cats to cows - nine times out of ten it is a large piece of black blown tire - a blanket or clothes let or lost ....but until I pass it....my imagination runs amuck....bkm
I do this same thing, riding on the train...
ReplyDeletewhew...nice intensity to this...lots of dead things of the road this time of year around here...saw the most amazing 10 point buck though, still alive this morning...
ReplyDeleteIf there are dead things lying around here--and there are--they are not in the roadway, but in the swamps. It is where animal and bird go to die
ReplyDeleteand maybe one day I
Becoming then a part of that Universe of Whom I frequently speak.
One day there actually was a cow...that was the weirdest...I prefer dead tires...bkm
ReplyDeleteI am certainly no critic, just a humble appreciator of looking at the world through another's eyes, and I always LOVE seeing it through yours! Even when we're talking road kill! (Which makes me blubber like a child whenever I come upon it) :)
ReplyDeletehello, my name is michael and im hooked on bkm. i read these everyday and dont plan on stopping because i can stop the very minute i want to.
ReplyDeleteYour piece does bring up a topic most country drivers deal with on a daily basis. It brings the reader into deep thought regarding death and life. Death is a harsh reality. Perhaps, the word "i" is overused. Some changes could make this wonderful read even better.
ReplyDeleteEven if I didn't know Hwy. 20, I can visualize what you are experiencing. You've done a very effective job of word-painting Barbara. Someone could pick up a paint brush, some oils and a canvas and reproduce it.
ReplyDeleteWhat I really like about this piece is the onward, propulsive thought-process as a kind of continual monologue making much use of alliteration e.g. 'bloodied beavers, big black birds' etc) and repetition ('dead things' in particular really gets me). Your use of proper nouns make the Narrative more interesting too - specifying the Highway, Sutter Buttes, Corriera's. Your closure is also very strong and emotive, almost haunting -
ReplyDeletedriving on west, i see dead things
black
I think though that you sometimes overuse the repetition device (and over-alliterate too in places); there are other areas that feel unnecessary and strippable, and in one or two places I think you are straight telling this rather than showing by way of visual poetic devices/trope (metaphor/simile/personification etc etc). I realise you have something of a true Narrative here, ir a story with beginning, middle and end, but even so.
i drive
[along] Hwy 20 [along] the >two instances of 'along' in one line. Neither needed.
south side of the
Sutter Buttes - westward
the road [is] lined with
nut and peach orchards
empty cornfields, tomato fields - Corriera's boarded up fruit stand
CLOSED >excellent descriptive passages here
i look ahead, i see
there are dead things
all along the two lane road
[i see them] >too much on the rep. in my humble opinion
black things,
dead things - i see them lying
in the middle, along the side
ditched things, deserted dogs
dead things >love this stanza, teh rep. and allit. is fab
black things, skunks
bloodied beavers, big black
birds, buzzards half winged; [and] wet in stench >'buzzards' perhaps one too many 'b's but great poetry here
fear overtakes me >is there a way you could show your fear rather than telling it straight like this?
tales in my ear- turn, my right ear - turn
take the river road, it says, the
river road - just take it, now >hypnotic repetition.. love that
my mind is
muddled, mocked to indecision
i mull it over, [then over] >'then' at least is too much for me
then again
No, no i can't , i won't take it - there are ghosts on the
river road, ghosts of old barge men, there are ghosts
of the raped and murdered, ghosts of lost
children [longtime drowned] - they will stop me, they stop me, they always
stop me - they always ask me, [Why? Why?]
>do you need the 'drowned' detail? It's so think with horrific stuff there I almost switched off with overload. It felt like one thing too many. Also the 'Why? Why' feels redundant as the next line, and what comes before it, are asking that, no? 'Why' is a hard one to get away with in poetry, such has been its overuse. A single instance in the right place may be fine, several uses I find difficult.
Why do they only see dead things?
driving on west, i see dead things
black >great closure
Very strong piece, like it immensely. Haunting, compulsive, intriguing. The crit is all just suggestion to be taken or left as you feel appropriate of course :)
I read how Luke scrutinized your piece of poetry and it had been strong for me.Liked it
ReplyDeleteCor Blimey!
ReplyDeletethis made my palms sweat and pulse race.
a real thrill ride - with great language economy and distinctive delivery.
So evocative and ghost-story real. As I read it, I saw it. You achieved greatness in that. The only stumbling spot for me was:
ReplyDelete"they will stop me, they stop me, they always
stop me - they always ask me, Why? Why?
Why do they only see dead things?"
I would condense this, reduce the repetition, for strength over volume. Other than that, mastery.
*shiver*
ReplyDeletewow! i especially liked the convo with yourself.
Great poem!IMHO Luke has done an excellent editorial job for you. Instead of 'fear overtakes me' you could refer to noise in your ears. Or cut the line altogether - it doesn't add anything in my opinion because the following lines convey a sense of fear really effectively. I really enjoyed this poem!
ReplyDeletethanks everyone for taking the time to critic this poem...Luke especially you are right about some of the repeats that can be axed here...the reason for the repeated asking why ...was that (which I much have not conveyed strong enough for one to comment ...is that the narrator of this piece - is dead himself...and that is why the people at the river see him, etc..no one at the fruit stand...so thanks all I will revisit and make a few changes...bkm
ReplyDeleteLong ago I once saw a deer while traveling with my family, dad got out thinking it was dead and it moved, scared us silly
ReplyDeleteIt is strange how that is sometimes....strong ending.
ReplyDeleteThis has the same intensity I always appreciate about your work. I have to say I love this. Beautifully eerie :)
ReplyDeleteI have nothing to say except I like it just the way it is. = )
ReplyDeleteWhen I see dead things on the road, I always think of the lines from a poem of Aase Lilleskare Faugstad, "released and unharmed, from the cage that held it bound." Of course it doesn't make it OK, but helps. I am always saddened. Roads are dangerous for wildlife.
ReplyDeleteSuch a powerful, haunting piece. We have a stand that has remained closed as of yet this year... and we wonder. Fire blazed through its hearth about 4 years ago... we keep wondering and I see its path each time I pass as it rests closed longer into the season, though it had been open over the last couple years.
ReplyDelete