Week Six - Peer Response One - Response to LaRue's Improv

At Daybreak
Adam Zagajewski

From the train window at daybreak,
I saw empty cities sleeping,
sprawled defenselessly on their backs
like great beasts.
Through the vast squares, only my thoughts
and a biting wind wandered;
linen flags fainted on towers,
birds started to wake in the trees,
and in the thick pelts of the parks
stray cats' eyes gleamed.
The shy light of morning, eternal
debutante, was reflected in shop windows.
Carousels, finally possessing themselves, spun
like prayer wheels on their invisible fulcrums;
gardens fumed like Warsaw's smoldering ruins.
The first van hadn't arrived yet
at the brown slaughterhouse wall.
Cities at daybreak are no one's,
and have no names.
And I, too, have no name,
dawn, the stars growing pale,
the train picking up speed.

At Midnight
Casey LaRue

From my bedroom window at midnight,
I saw empty mausoleums starving,
lids stacked crookedly across gaps
like mad hats.
Six feet under, only my soul
and a snaking worm wandered;
dampness crept in the cavities
souls started to awaken from bones,
and in the roots of the trees
water stretched to feed.
The transitive light of the moon, smiling
guardian, reached not to those depths.
Crickets, finally expressing themselves, rubbed
like twigs to create fiery songs;
plants curled like inked paper.
The first moment hadn't arrived yet
of the new and promising day.
Mausoleums at midnight are no ones yet,
but one day will have names.
And I, too, will have a name,
midnight, the stars glowing brightly,
the crickets' chorus rising.

I know this was a construct of the original piece, but this poem is a pretty good example of Dr. Davidson’s suggestion that we place our poem within a particular time/setting from the beginning: “From my bedroom window at midnight.” It’s a great start to the poem and adds an important level of specificity. Now that you’ve drafted the improv, though, you can break away from the original. So, in your next draft, why not make it a bit more specific? “Bedroom window at midnight” is just fine, but can’t you imagine the poem with something more potent? I imagine something both more detailed and more domestic to contrast with the outdoorsiness. The opening six lines are your strongest: “lids stacked crookedly across gaps/ like mad hats” and “only my soul/and a snaking worm wandered.” I usually nix anything that mentions such a lofty topic as a “soul,” but it may almost work in this case. Likewise, I would typically say it’s too obvious that “dampness crept in the cavities,” but it’s cool if you imply no the cavities of the crypts but, rather, of the bodies. Play around with the line a little, trying to keep the same general concept.

“The first moment hadn’t arrived yet/of the new and promising day” does get lost in cliché, though, and syntactically confuses the reader. The second half of the poem begins to sink into expectedness. Stay with the wicked images reminiscent of the “mad hats.” Feed off of the awesome original lines like “Carousels, finally possessing themselves, spun/like prayer wheels on their invisible fulcrums.”

Overall, break away from the original now, though. You have a great start. I’d like to see more from it.