Scan (revised)

[1lankest]

Revision

For now we’re cocooned
in machine light, chasm deep,
held in the pitch and turn
of your pixelated form,
suspended over water.
Before the first breath:
a singular racing pulse
of two clasped hands,
footfall proceeding
in monochrome
increments to merge
into a string of steps,
gathering colour, rhythm,
scent, tottering
like particles of dust
drawn deep into the light-
shaft to the heart
of this hospital room.

Original

For now we’re cocooned
in machine light, fresh dew.
Suspended over water, chasm-
deep. Pitch, turn, white air.

Wingbeat, lift and dive
through eucalyptus shadow
where nothing is wasted
but drawn into us: blossom,

eagle-echo, particles of dust
a shaft of light sets-off
giving form to the infinite
within each moment

the singular

racing pulse
of two clasped hands -

Your footprints proceed us
in the meadow grass, pixilated
string of steps
growing in monochrome
increments, gathering colour,
rhythm, scent, then tottering
on the tongue as cherry,
rose,

only to dissolve again
into the murmering pool
of this sunny hospital room.

[Macavity]

Something ominous in that ending Luke and that title. I presumed the 'meadow' is an idyllic memory and the 'clasped hands' are reflective of anxiety and reassurance in the hospital context. The process in S1 lost me...a flight?

giving form to the infinite
within each moment

Very abstract.

Not joining the dots on this one.

cheers

mac

[bjondon]

Really like this Luke . . . if the aim was to achieve
a sense of levitating along with this couple viewing
the first scan of their first baby I would say it succeeds.
A real sense of the joy and wonder.

For now we’re cocooned
in machine light, fresh dew. . . . . . fresh dew is a bit confusing and doesn't seem to add much
Suspended over water, chasm- . . . looking into the monitor
deep. Pitch, turn, white air. . . . .this must be the baby/foetus . . . ultrasound is quite fuzzy, b/w so the image is almost abstract

Wingbeat, lift and dive . . . . this stanza gets quite mystical but I like it . . . addressing the miracle of life
through eucalyptus shadow
where nothing is wasted . . . not too sure what this line means . . . every detail of the image drawn in, or a sense of oneness
but drawn into us: blossom, . . . . or both

eagle-echo, particles of dust
a shaft of light sets-off . . . . again spinning out from the visual effects to wider metaphor, a sense of the primaeval forest
giving form to the infinite
within each moment

the singular

. . . I like this formal 'breather'
racing pulse
of two clasped hands - . . . . I presume this is the couple, but symbolically their combined pulse has become this new beat

Your footprints proceed us . . . already projecting forward to an imagined life
in the meadow grass, pixilated . . .(spelling?) pixelated almost a pun . . . works for me
string of steps
growing in monochrome
increments, gathering colour,
rhythm, scent, then tottering . . .wonderful image of a gathering life . . . to the tottering of first speech . . . threads to the
on the tongue as cherry, . . . . . . . poet and the sense of the poem itself as a sort of scan
rose,

only to dissolve again
into the murmering pool . . . like that hospital audio detail
of this sunny hospital room. . . .and relax . . . or not - taking mac's cue this could just be the completion of life's round but
I don't see that interpretation as integral . . . shadows not necessary here

Jules

[Macavity]

with this couple viewing
the first scan of their first baby I would say it succeeds.

Thanks Jules, that opens the door into Luke's poem.

cheers

mac

[k-j]

I like the general sense of building, cohering, and then the dissolving again in the last stanza. However I think it is too impressionistic. "Blossom, / eagle-echo" for example, I simply can't relate to the subject of the poem. And "the infinite / within each moment" doesn't say much to me at all. The footprints, steps and tottering in S5 do work well together.

Couple of typos - "Precede us" and "murmuring". Assuming the shaft of light is setting off the particles of dust in the sense of launching them (and not in the sense of contrasting with them) then you don't need the hyphen in "sets off".

[1lankest]

Thought I’d return to this since I rudely neglected to reply.
Thanks all, (k-j, where have you been!?) slightly experiential this one but, as Jules says, it was an attempt to capture something of the surreal, ineffable moment of that first interaction with one’s child and of its bountiful potential.

I have revised it in light of your comments - I agree there was too much of the abstract in it.

Luke

[Antcliff]

Greetings, Luke. Did I see some poems by you in the recent edition of Southlight?

I am glad Jules identified the subject matter as I had been somewhat at sea initially. But only initially. Despite your last comment about the abstract, I rather liked the new version. I liked the idea of a channel of light to the heart, attempting to combine light as a source of information about x and as a source of emotional engagement and affection for those looking on at x. Channels being two way things. I had read it as treating the baby, the parents or possibly both as the heart of the hospital at that moment.

Best Seth

[RCJames]

Antcliff - Not sure where the descriptions of light and movement were heading - but it all made sense knowing it was a hospital room - RC

[1lankest]

Cheers Seth, good to see you around. Yes, indeed, I was honoured to share the platform with, amongst others, particularly you. It’s an lovely, unpretentious issue. Funnily enough, one of my poems was attributed to someone else (‘Methodically’ on the page before mine) but hey ho!

Thanks for the feedback - I like your reading of it and I’m glad it resonated.
Thanks RC, glad it made sense.

Luke

[JamesM]

Hello there,
I'm writing on the phone, so forgive the brevity.
My enjoyment is partly due to the recognition of its inspiring impulse.
Some suggestions.
...in the/a chasm of machine light...
..held...is weak. You could drop it if cocoon can act as the main verb for both or look for a more dynamic alternative.
.....suspended...is that the right visual image. It's not helpful.
The developmental language may need fleshing out and ...tottering while right for the infant doesn't work for the dust motes and weakens an otherwise strong close.
Regards

[David]

Hi Luke. At the risk of sounding like an old record, I prefer the original - particularly the layout, but also the content. But I have to admit that it was the revision - which I read first - that made it clear what the poem is about. I wonder whether I would have understood that from the original unaided? But there's much about the original that I miss in the revision. Some hybrid might be attractive?

Congratulations on Southlight!

Cheers

David

[twoleftfeet]

Hello,Luke

I'm glad you posted a revision because I didn't understand the original

The revision is much clearer,although "shaft to the heart" has connotations of death/murder,at least to me.

Geoff

[JJWilliamson]

The revision clarified things enormously, Luke, although I did manage to follow the general thread of the original.
The awe and excitement, and the sharing of this magic moment comes through very nicely.

However, like David, I found the impressions of the first version to be particularly satisfying, if somewhat difficult to penetrate.
I found myself nodding along with all the previous crit's and that is probably where your dilemma will lie. I'd take care not to revise
the heart out of this one, though. Been there.

Revision

For now we’re cocooned
in machine light, chasm deep,
held in the pitch and turn
of your pixelated form, ...Great opening four lines.
suspended over water. ...'Over' or 'in'
Before the first breath:
a singular racing pulse
of two clasped hands, ...The parents or baby?
footfall proceeding
in monochrome
increments to merge
into a string of steps,
gathering colour, rhythm,
scent, tottering ...Got a bit lost with 'scent'.
like particles of dust
drawn deep into the light-
shaft to the heart
of this hospital room. ...Lovely close.

Original

For now we’re cocooned
in machine light, fresh dew.
Suspended over water, chasm-
deep. Pitch, turn, white air.

Wingbeat, lift and dive
through eucalyptus shadow
where nothing is wasted
but drawn into us: blossom,

eagle-echo, particles of dust
a shaft of light sets-off
giving form to the infinite
within each moment

the singular

racing pulse
of two clasped hands -

Your footprints proceed us
in the meadow grass, pixilated
string of steps
growing in monochrome
increments, gathering colour,
rhythm, scent, then tottering
on the tongue as cherry,
rose,

only to dissolve again
into the murmering pool
of this sunny hospital room.

[1lankest]

Thanks Jj, Geoff, Davis - ah yes, caught again between the allure of clarity and fuzzy familiarity of the original. Balls.
Lots to think on, I’ll try that via media, David.

Luke