A Question for John

[Knot]

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Hi TqB,

 I wrote a poem that necessitated doing a bit of research into charcoal making a while ago, which may explain why I kept on getting snagged on your descriptions. It seems to me there's something fundamentally different about 'charcoal burning' versus 'biochar' in terms of method and purpose that gets confused in your piece, though in neither, as far as I can tell, would anyone be 'stirring it with a cedar pole'.

Regarding, 'standing in an empty hole' - it might have helped if you'd been more direct and simply said I instead of you, as in

It’s a conical pit now hidden by the winter grasses,

and when I stand in it my head is just above their tops.

There's a 'barrow's worth of charcoal ...

The title of the poem is 'A Question for John', so when you use 'you' it makes me think you're addressing him, which clearly isn't the case in S2 (until you get to the question at the end of the verse where you are!). It's a confusion that could easily be avoided.

If this is one of the two important images (the other being the pole) why not start with S2?

How does this look to you?

It’s a conical pit

now hidden by the winter grasses,

so if you stand in it, your head is just above their tops.

Next to it, there is a wheelbarrow’s worth of charcoal,

subsided now, after 10 months,

to a miniature village of black hills.

the pit is empty; you cleaned it out.

Did you know you were leaving?

After helping me cut cedar in El Bosque Aboriginal,

I was done for the day,

but you began working,

cutting oak, hauling it to the pit, stacking it in,

and setting fire

tending it

over and over,

on into darkness,

and I finally came out of the cabin

and tried to tell you about Ethan Brand,

but you were so mesmerized by your task,

I finally gave up and went back in.

I have your fire-pole at home with me.

Your hands wore one end smooth as polished bone,

and I can hold it where your hands were.

Part of me wants to return it to the pit,

(you might want the pole back where you left it)

but I can’t let weather and time erase your hands just yet.

Time enough for that when I am gone too, mijo.

Best, Knot

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