Carr's Review of Meaghan's Poems 11-7

To: Meaghan
From: Carr

Re: “pussy” and “lessons in color at the jazz festival”

Meaghan,

I really like the rhythm of your poem, “pussy.” It reminds me of the song “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” (I think we listened to that one in class that night). All the “don’ts” work to good effect. My favorites are “does not read cosmopolitan or count carbs to fit a bikini”; “not on display and you are not on her mind”; “not be your date, your mate, or your evening entertainment.” Those are good, and the first two I like because they connect or wrap into a statement about me, the male reader – but also me, our culture at large. I had a sense of guilt there for my complicity in the whole thing. Good.
OK. I also really like your closing here. “dreaming at the foot of my bed” is a very nice line – nice tone and feel – but I will have to admit that it took me two readings to understand the play here (again my male streak works against me, and perhaps that is what is clever here. That you know what will lure some of your readers on, and use that to get them to get to the end. Nicely played). But once I did see the whole cat imagery, I liked it, because it allows you a stance as the poet of innocence. After all, you are just writing about your cat. At the same time, you are able to make more biting social commentary while writing this homage to your…kitty (sorry, I couldn’t resist). Cool.

OK. So “lessons” is a poem that I really like. And what I think I like most are two things. First, I like the way you come to a revelation here at the end. You learn something in this poem, and frankly I didn’t see it coming. You sweep us up with the vivid details of the “jazz man obscene …riding some wild thing we can’t see”, his music traveling “through the crowd like summer love” and working its way so deep into your pores that it comes “sweating out sticky.” Those are all beautiful lines. Then, because love won’t feed his family, you light a cigarette and leave, making your way to the “elephant tents,” where the artisans think you “beautiful in that saffron sash” and their other wares. And you believe it (very nice). But then you see the posters, and something clicks: you realize “forty years is less than a lifetime.” This is a simple, yet powerful line, and it carries a lot of weight, Meaghan, a lot of weight. That’s very nice. Very nice.
Another thing this poem shows, Meaghan, is your fearlessness (This is a quality that I see in most of your work, and I encourage you to stick with it. It will take you to places that you don’t always want to see, but that you will be fuller for). You start the poem with a real grabber: “I’m counting white people to pass time.” Yes. Right away that gives us a tone to hold on to. Thus one of my critiques is to stick with the first person POV. It contains more power. Right now you step out of it for just an instant in that third stanza, but that’s enough to take us out of it as well. So don’t. Just tell us what you feel.
My second point is on the same lines and concerns the closing. There you stay in first person, but you switch to first person plural. Uggh. Don’t tell us what we should do, just show us what you did. Along these lines I suggest you try to close the poem by coming back to you – and the image of the jazz man. Maybe you can hear him again, or look at the crowd again. But show us something that will make us think what you have said in those last lines. Make sense?
Finally, as much as I like the revelatory line, I don’t think your setup line works very well: “I never really forgot it but now I’m sure”? Clunk city. Again, show us. Take a cinema guy’s advice: Let the pictures do the talking.
All right, Meaghan. I’ve certainly enjoyed reading your work this semester. Keep it up and see me with questions.
Peace,
Carr