Perfect Dusk

[milo]

For the most part, this poem doesn't really work for me.  It is overly modified by forced flowery description of  what is essentially a pretty dull narrative.  Pound is famous for saying " . . Don’t be descriptive; remember that the painter can describe a landscape much better than you can, and that he has to know a deal more about it. " and I am inclined to agree with him here.


The narrative - as far as I can tell:  There is sunlight (mysteriously all over the world at the same time so perhaps this is the apocalypse?).  Our narrator coughs.  The end.  As close as I could come to a central metaphor was the "trite nature is wonderful, man's constructions are ugly."

Sunlight falls all over the world
like the honey-water dripping
from the skin of a ripened peach
preserved in a jar of delight.

so, I have a couple problems here.  First, sunlight should never fall all over the world at the same time.  Unfortunately, Pythagoras over-rode my theory of a flat earth several thousand years ago.  Second, everything is overly modified and described.  There are a lot of words here to say the rather simple phrase - there is sun.  For me, I would like to see poetry say more with fewer words.  Thirdly, I have no idea what a jar of "delight" is.  What would your intention be with this "jar of delight"?

It mingles with the soft meringue
of syrupy dew carefully
folded into the heavy cream
of the chilly evening souffle.

Here, our narrator continues to describe sunlight for another 4 whole lines but I can see no relevance to the descriptions.  Descriptions in poetry should /reveal/ something more than "this is what dusk looks like to me".  Once again, there is the continuation of overmodification - soft, syrupy, carefully, heavy, chilly, evening.

I cough into the syrup-drenched
horizon broken by the city

silhouette, a mass of greedy stone
hands with fingers and tumors of steel
mingling their dirty, smoke-spewing tips
with the dusk's perfect confection.

Watch what happens if we just trim away all of the flowery excess and faux-poeticisms:


Sunlight falls 
like water dripping

It mingles with
 the dew 
of the  evening .

I cough into the
horizon broken by the city
silhouette,  greedy stone
hands 
mingling  smoke-spewing tips
with dusk .


It is immediately better (though still not good).

Good luck.

Thanks for posting.