From Here to Eternity

[Certain]

The phrasing of the phrase is framed in such a way
that the place is placed above the time, a space for us to gaze.
It's "From Here to Eternity," not "till" or something linear,
so we're going hunting till we stumble on the cusp's interior.

And we're taking the old country highway.

There's a broken-down shack on the side of the road,
used to fix tires with holes. The owner's retired.
Now what? The shack sits abandoned.
Eras melt off its slate siding, split and vandalized,
There's the old coat of gray paint
from back when gray paint was fashionable.
Back in ninteen-sixty-three, when these stains were maskable.

There's a herd of cows grazing in a field. Herd? Group?
I don't know. They stink. Turds? Poop? The word's moot:
A shit by any other name smells the same.
And even a tipped cow can't tell us if it felt the pain.

And we're taking the Interstate.

There's a sign at the exit. Repainted recently.
Bright golden arches help engage the scenery.
You can smell that fresh air — potatoes, grease and meat
— and for miles the neon buzzes with its display machinery.

There's a minivan stalled off deep in the shoulder.
Mom's calling the tow truck. Dad's trying to keep his composure.
The boys standing in back, with branches they battled.
Fake swords, all because their handhelds ran out of batteries.
But the girl, she's in the car, remembered her charger.
Presumably texting her friends about this mess of her father's.
But she smiles as she looks out at a sunset through the car door.

And we're taking the backstreets.

There's a cul-de-sac with seven houses lining its street
and in the middle is an empty fountain from the time of its peak.
Now the poor neighborhood kids play in its basin, hide-and-go-seek,
and one day realize will everything that they'd find in the heat.

There's a patio with a chair and an ashtray on the ground.
The ashtray's full. The chair is empty.
The wind whips without making a sound.
It turns the leaves, brown now. Once a perfect green.
And that alone means we haven't found Eternity.

[Zen]

This was very cool. I didn't like how some of the rhymes didnt match up perfectly but the story was rad. I imagined is a family driving cross country after the apocalypse or something. Probably not what you were going for, but it works. Cool stuff.

[Vulgar]

The phrasing of the phrase is framed in such a way
that the place is placed above the time, a space for us to gaze.
It's "From Here to Eternity," not "till" or something linear,
so we're going hunting till we stumble on the cusp's interior.
I really like the second bar better than the first one, which borders on being on the dull side.

And we're taking the old country highway.

There's a broken-down shack on the side of the road,
used to fix tires with holes. The owner's retired.
'used to fix tires with holes' is weakkk
Now what? The shack sits abandoned.
Eras melt off its slate siding, split and vandalized,
There's the old coat of gray paint
from back when gray paint was fashionable.
Back in ninteen-sixty-three, when these stains were maskable.
Neat.

There's a herd of cows grazing in a field. Herd? Group?
I don't know. They stink. Turds? Poop? The word's moot:
A shit by any other name smells the same.
And even a tipped cow can't tell us if it felt the pain.
I didn't like this section, too little soul.

And we're taking the Interstate.

There's a sign at the exit. Repainted recently.
Bright golden arches help engage the scenery.
You can smell that fresh air — potatoes, grease and meat
— and for miles the neon buzzes with its display machinery.
Nice.

There's a minivan stalled off deep in the shoulder.
Mom's calling the tow truck. Dad's trying to keep his composure.
The boys standing in back, with branches they battled.
Fake swords, all because their handhelds ran out of batteries.
But the girl, she's in the car, remembered her charger.
Presumably texting her friends about this mess of her father's.
But she smiles as she looks out at a sunset through the car door.
You do well with moments like these, small portraits of human profiles in their environments.

And we're taking the backstreets.

There's a cul-de-sac with seven houses lining its street
and in the middle is an empty fountain from the time of its peak.
Now the poor neighborhood kids play in its basin, hide-and-go-seek,
and one day realize will everything that they'd find in the heat.
^The last line is either misworded or inaccurate.

There's a patio with a chair and an ashtray on the ground.
The ashtray's full. The chair is empty.
^: /
The wind whips without making a sound.
It turns the leaves, brown now. Once a perfect green.
And that alone means we haven't found Eternity.
^The ending was cool but lacked poetic certainty, closure. I think you can do better.

@Certain

Keep doing yew

[dead man]

gonna give this a thorough read through in the morning

just keeping you up here for now.

[dead man]

i liked the way you framed this, opening up - the distinction you draw between the words "to" and "til" is really a crucial aspect of how to approach this verse. I'm reminded of a wrinkle in time for some reason. should really give it another read. point to the fact that a trip "to" eternity is not necessarily linear or even necessarily temporal. until references time, but "to" is purely a directional preposition.

the road tripping was well portrayed and directly correlated with your theme of directional movement. from experience i can attest to the fact that road trips often are never as linear as one would expect and there are always the types of problems that become your best memories. i.e., the smiling girl during what is classically the low point of your trip.

you transition us through different atmospheres of 4 wheel travel. it almost gives us the impression of zig-zagging. which oddly contrasts with how the verse physically looks and rhythmically behaves. you throw normative rhyme standards to the wind in a way most have been conditioned to avoid in favor of more multiple-laden complexity that arises not from the content itself but the method used to express it. spirit and bone.

the beginning and final stanzas were my favorite for the descriptive starkness. I'm referring not to the beginning of the verse but the trip.


Eras melt off its slate siding

There's a patio with a chair and an ashtray on the ground.
The ashtray's full. The chair is empty.
The wind whips without making a sound.
It turns the leaves, brown now. Once a perfect green.
And that alone means we haven't found Eternity.

this was great as a conclusive note. what was interesting was your naturalizing of eternity. in reference to the leaves physicality you bring temporality to the forefront of your content in the very last couplet. it seems you open a lot of doorways in few words if one is looking for them.

great submission here. assuming it was for the league at some point.

thanks


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