Brutishness (ver. 4)

[LeoVictorBriones (poetremains)]

The disproportionate memory of love
reveals itself like a teasing specter from behind the iron armoire.
In the flash of its impression is a peril
that is not measurable in tea or tablespoons,
cannot be meted into the proper order of life’s first print,
nor introduced in the opening chapter of a paperback Harlequin.

For tonight lying on frayed silk sheets,
I look at the ceiling, notice the scuff that we made
as we placed the framed espresso mirror over our intentions.
How I love to jump on my bed, try to touch that little brown blemish,
catch a peek of myself in that mirror, then whip myself to sleep.

[LynnDoiron]

Love your second stanza on this -- imagery that is so telling, full of energy, yet heart-breaking, too. In S1, a typo with "like a like the", one too many likes I think; and perhaps capitalize Harequin.

Just thinking out loud here, Leo, but in L2 of S1 I read and reread and I think my problem there is that I want the spectre to not sneak behind the oak armoire, which would be away from the voice, but sneak out from behind to "come" toward the voice . . . do you see what I mean? If the memory of loves comes, then the image of spectre going doesn't quite jive. I think a little tinkering on your part will fix. But, then again, maybe it's fine as is and the problem is in my viewing ...

Enjoyed the work, regardless of where the damned spectre is hiding ..... lynn

[Ron Wallace (Scotshawk)]

Good stuff, my left coast friend, very well maintained use of language to deliver some excellent images.

I noticed the same two typos Lynn mentioned, {two likes} and the need for a cap on Harlequin, and I couldn't agree more on having that specter come out from behind the oak armoire.

Ron

[mfwilkie]

I like this draft, Leo.

Some thoughts on tightening: Espresso, I think is overkill in this piece. Had the same reaction to the specter as Lynn. How about using intentions for headboard?


This is the gem for me, Leo,:

And in the flash of its impression is a peril
that cannot be measured in tea or tablespoons,
meted into the proper order of life’s first print,

but it needs to stand out, and to do that
I think you need to pay attention to the pace and sound in the lines. let the s's do their work, and add to the assonance with
a smoother internal rhyme: peril and measurable,

the l's also work with the sound in tablespoons.

Here's some messing:

The disproportionate memory of love
sneaks toward me from behind an oak
armoire. In the/a flash of first impressions is

a peril not measurable in tea or tablespoons
meted into the proper order of life’s first print,
nor the opening chapter of a molasses-driven harlequin.

Lying on frayed silk sheets in the dim evening
I notice the scuff we made on the ceiling when
we placed the mirror over our intentions.

How I love to jump on my bed and try to touch
that little brown blemish, catch a peek of myself
in that mirror, (and?) self-flagellate.


Mags

[LeoVictorBriones (poetremains)]

Made some changes

[LynnDoiron]

I like the changes you've made; they fix that problem I had with spectre coming rather than going; and I really like the "iron armoire" -- what an image.

Feel free to ignore, but I wondered about going beyond the opening chapter, as in:

cannot be meted into the proper order of life’s first print,
nor introduced in the opening (or any) chapter of a paperback Harlequin.

Nice editing!

lynn

[Tina (Firefly)]

This is terrific editing..more concise and intentional and it does not lose any of the tension from the first version. I especially think that the new ending is way more powerful and metaphorical. My only remaining suggestion is to change the word "little" (brown blemish) to "small." I think the one-syllable word there would be more consistant with the meter and it also seems a stronger image to me than "little." Anyhow, it's a keeper. Tina

[mfwilkie]

Leo,

I really like the iron armoire, and suggest enjambing the line right there on that image.

Espresso works with the mirror.

I took out what I felt hindered flow and tone, and put it
into couplets, leaving the last line to stand on its own.

We're going have to arm wrestle for the 'For' in front of tonight:

I win, it goes; I lose, you have to arm wrestle chicky.

Maggie


The disproportionate memory of love reveals itself
like a teasing specter from behind the iron armoire.

In a flash of first impressions is a peril not measurable
in tea or tablespoons, nor/or meted into the proper order

of life’s first print, or/nor introduced in the opening chapter
of a paperback Harlequin. Tonight, lying on frayed silk sheets,

I stare at the ceiling and notice the scuff mark we made when
we placed the framed espresso mirror over our intentions.

How I love to jump on my bed; I jump to reach the
small brown blemish, catch a peek of myself in that mirror,

then whip myself to sleep.