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#1: Black Box Author: Cid,

Posted: Sat Nov 8 14:05:19 EST 2008
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I'm considering using this as a slam poem, but I'm not sure if it's high-energy enough. I'm trying to avoid cliches, and I'm worried that the first stanza might come off as too angsty. Verse five seems too mundane to fit with the rest of the poem, but I can't think of another image that can tie the two parts together. Also, the last line seems weak.
This is a pretty personal poem for me, but I want to do the subject justice, so please shred it.

My mother saved all her best writing
for suicide notes
spreading cursive over blank pages
like blue capillaries blossoming under bruised skin
a body breaking
just beneath the surface.

Every time, she thought
they were her black box recording
before she planned to burst into flames;
A last transmission from a desert island
before the shipwrecked
walk into the sea.

I’m sure she wrote them
with the same concentration and steady hand
of 12th-century scholars recording
carefully collected revelations and histories
in unbroken Arabic script
twisting out all the clever arguments she had crafted
for choosing death.

If she had a flying broomstick
she would have written them in contrails
covering the sky
from the mountains to the Eastern plains
hoping the wind would hold still long enough
that sunset could highlight the stanzas
in pink and orange
until they drifted apart
like the ink on a message
in a cracked whiskey bottle
drifting over the Atlantic
carrying kisses for loved ones and a half-inch of leftover liquor

I’m sure she arranged them on the dining-room table
as elegantly as any centerpiece
our full names, middle included, hand-embossed on each envelope
formally as any funeral invitation
each pen stroke a mixture
of motherly devotion
and the resentment of arms tired of carrying the dreams of others
but my sister and I found only
empty place settings
and a pen gone dry.
My father
always an expert at magic tricks
made them disappear into his coat pocket
unopened.

I wonder some days
if her secrets burned his hands
or if they felt like holding icicles too long,
turning his palms numb,
and making the skin pucker.

I wonder if he folded them into paper cranes
and set them free in the park
hoping that predators would find them
before they could mate
and hatch more eloquent nihilism
until they infested the suburbs
and had to fight with the pigeons for food.

I wonder if he drove down the highway in January
ignoring their whimpers
while he tossed them page by page out the window
to freeze to death in the snow
or be pulled under the wheels of passing trucks.

I wonder if he burned them in the back yard
while the moon watched over his shoulder
letting the peach tree suck in the smoke,
making the fruit turn bitter.

Perhaps he read them, opened them and refolded them
again and again until the creases felt like cotton
before stuffing them into a shoebox.
Perhaps someday they will make their escape
fluttering their crinkled wings
while Mom cleans out the closet
so she can retrace the pen strokes
and send them off
like Christmas cards
to remind us of all the days
she didn’t want to breathe.

#2: Re: Black Box Author: spectre_chasm, Location: Flagstaff, Arizona

Posted: Wed Nov 12 0:02:17 EST 2008
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I'll start by saying I don't do slam, so I'm a bad critic of it. This is a wonderful poem--slam or otherwise. No, S1 doesn't come off as too angsty--its a mighty thin line given the subject but you stayed deliciously on the good side of it. Its a very strong stanza.

I don't know that S4 is necessary. Nice, but it doesn't help carry the poem and it takes away from the almost dirgelike repetitiveness of s6-9 (which I think work wonderfully). There's also a nice potential drift from s3 to 5 that is lost with s4 being where it is. If you want to keep the cleverness, perhaps it could be woven in with s2. I think all three of those stanzas (s2-4) could do with some pruning. You are a clever poet, good with metaphor, but this poem deserves better than a demonstration of that. If you read through those stanzas, which parts help tell the story that you need to tell and which ones are just filigree?

You're right, s5 isn't the bridge you want, but still good. I think it could be strengthened by dropping lines 5-7, and perhaps line 2. I had a hard time suggesting that because I was struck by the beauty of lines 5-7, but I think the strongest way to segue between the two parts would be a short brutal stanza, and this one ain't it. Of course that would change the meter--line 1 doesn't belong against 3, but some wordsmithing would fix that. Not sure if this is the stanza, or if you just want to leave the reader guessing, but its not clear how writer and sister know the nature of the notes if the father took them. This isn't your voice so it isn't right, but what I have in mind might look more like:

My sister and I found only
a pen gone dry
though once her notes lay elegantly on the dining room table
our names, middle included, full-embossed on each envelope.
My father, expert at magic,
made them disappear into his coat pocket
unopened.

s10 is a nice breakout from s6-9 and it brings power to it. I think you might have meant the repeated "thems" in L1 to mimic the repeated wonders in the earlier stanzas but it doesn't work for me personally.
The switch from the impersonal mother/she to the personal mom is a powerful one. It shifts the tenor of the author from bitter/sarcastic to frustrated and loving with a single well turned word in just the right place. For me, that is where you show yourself as a strong poet rather than just a clever one.

This is a really strong poem, hope to see a rewrite and hope to see more of you here.

#3: Re: Black Box Author: Cid,

Posted: Sun Nov 16 14:36:21 EST 2008
----
Those are all very helpful comments. Thank you. I especially agree about cutting lines 5-7 in S5. I would like to keep S4 somewhere, though. I added it in to try and keep the poem from being too stark, but I like your suggestion about moving it up to avoid breaking the rhythm in the rest of the poem.

I avoided guessing at the contents of the notes in this poem, since the speaker will never know. The descriptions of how she wrote them are all inferences made just from knowing my mom. I've added a brief explanation on how we know they existed in S5, though I'm not sure if it's clear enough.

Anyway, let me know what you think.

My mother saved all her best writing
for suicide notes
spreading cursive over blank pages
like blue capillaries blossoming under bruised skin
a body breaking
just beneath the surface.

Each time, she thought
they were her black box recording
before bursting into flames;
A last transmission from a desert island
before the shipwrecked
walk into the sea.

I'm sure if she could fly
she would have written them in contrails
covering the sky,
until they drifted apart
like the ink on a message
drifting over the Atlantic
carrying kisses for loved ones in a cracked whiskey bottle.

I’m sure she wrote them
with the same steady hand
of 12th-century scholars recording
revelations and histories
in unbroken Arabic script
twisting out all the clever arguments she had crafted
for choosing death.

I’m sure she arranged them on the dining-room table
our full names, middle included, hand-embossed on each envelope
but my sister and I found only
a pen bled dry, still warm from her touch.
My father
an expert at magic tricks
made them vanish up his sleeve,
and blamed their disappearance
on prying paramedics.

I wonder some days
if her secrets burned his hands
or if they felt like holding icicles too long,
turning his palms numb,
and making the skin pucker.

I wonder if he folded them into paper cranes
and set them free in the park
hoping that predators would find them
before they could mate
and hatch more eloquent nihilism
until they infested the suburbs
and had to fight with the pigeons for food.

I wonder if he drove down the highway in January
ignoring their whimpers
while he tossed them page by page out the window
to freeze to death in the snow
or be pulled under the wheels of passing trucks.

I wonder if he burned them in the back yard
while the moon watched over his shoulder
letting the peach tree suck in the smoke,
making the fruit turn bitter.

Perhaps he read them, opened and refolded them
until the creases felt like cotton
before stuffing them into a shoebox.
Perhaps someday they will make their escape
fluttering their crinkled wings
while Mom cleans out the closet
so she can retrace the pen strokes
and send them off
like Christmas cards
to remind us of all the days
she didn’t want to breathe.

#4: Re: Black Box Author: spectre_chasm, Location: Flagstaff, Arizona

Posted: Sun Nov 16 15:24:22 EST 2008
----
I think it reads much better. I like what you did with s5, its now the strong stanza that a bridge needs to be.

What I was most impressed with is that you took my commentary, thought about it, used what was useful, discarded what was not and best of all took the gist of my ramblings and made them your own. This really shows in what you did with s4 and s5.

Now seriously into the nits. S2. I'd loose the comma in L1. Also, L2 and L3 don't quite agree with each other. Maybe:

they were her black box recording
that would burst into flames;

but I guess it isn't the black box that bursts into flames, its the inferred plane. So maybe

they were her black box recordings
before she burst into flames;

Anyway, something ain't right there. Did you mean to cap L4 in S2? S4 is missing a period at the end of the stza.

#5: Re: Black Box Author: Cid,

Posted: Sun Nov 16 15:36:16 EST 2008
----
How about:

Each time she thought
they were her black box recording
that would survive the flames;
a last transmission from a desert island
before the shipwrecked
walk into the sea.

Oui? Non?

#6: Re: Black Box Author: spectre_chasm, Location: Flagstaff, Arizona

Posted: Sun Nov 16 15:43:12 EST 2008
----
Yeah, that's the ticket.

#7: Re: Black Box Author: Cid,

Posted: Sun Nov 16 15:47:06 EST 2008
----
Ding!
Thanks for all the help!

#8: Re: Black Box Author: NikeAGoGo, Location: Northern Va.

Posted: Fri Jan 23 4:25:40 EST 2009
----
Man, I had to read this five times before I could figure out what was going on emotionally. I hope you are not upset because I can pretty much see that you are satisfied with your creation and hope dearly that it is not treading, but when i read your first poem, there were so many links to your father, the survivor, which created emotional pulls within the piece and it was what made the poem more real while your second version, though beautifully written and formulated lacks flavor and buzz which is, in my opinion extremely important for spoken word. This is of course just my opinion and again, I am so sorry that I am even commenting on this so late in the game but I am one of those crazy people once I see something, I can't shut up about it. Again, I hope I didn't offend.

#9: Re: Black Box Author: Cid,

Posted: Fri Jan 23 13:01:33 EST 2009
----
Don't worry, I'm not offended in the slightest. I've been struggling a bit lately on whether I want to go for raw emotion in my poems or a tight, sound construction and kind of detached storytelling style. I appreciate the feedback, and I'll think about whether I can change this one to include both.

#10: Re: Black Box Author: Michael_stanford,

Posted: Sat Jun 6 21:36:04 EDT 2009
----
Best advice:

cut this in half, then half it again, then half it again, then half it again.

Then you'll have something to work on.

Slam poetry is incredibly difficult to write.
It needs: humour, pin-point insight, fresh construction of language,
relevance, readth of detail etc etc....I suppose one could say this is true for all poems, but SLAM poetry without it reads like a self obsessed navel gazer. As this poem I am sorry to tell you, undoubtedly does.

Your line breaks are all over the place. They need to be addressed.

At the moment this is overwrought and over told.

good luck with it,
Michael

#11: Re: Black Box Author: AmyD,

Posted: Wed Jun 10 12:36:53 EDT 2009
----
Don't write poems to use in a slam. Write good poems first and slam later.

#12: Re: Black Box Author: NikeAGoGo, Location: Northern Va.

Posted: Thu Jun 11 22:24:26 EDT 2009
----
Absolutely agrees with Amy.. completely. What I tend to find with the Slam oppressed (and yes I call it oppression openly) is a lack of originality and character.. as if all poets are meant to sound like Def poetry Jams.. I say write good poetry and if it is well done, it will be come "Slam"... poetry is not a matter of "chickens".. it is a matter craft. Secondly Micheal, I would love to read your work as you seem such extensive knowledge by the tone in critiques.

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