Poem Excluding Romance

         Noah Falck

 

 

The first storm seen from outer space was a

ballad. The rest of your life summarized in

the refrain of a pop song, in the catching of

breath in the middle of a marathon. We all

squint our eyes at the entire history of

Olympic mascots. Day grows into night in

bedrooms lit by scented candles, and the

obscure noise in the attic announces how

soon the dead become song.

// second draft

The first storm seen from outer space was a

ballad, an erotic representation scribbled in

magic marker. The rest of your life in the

refrain of a pop song, in the catching of

breath in the middle of a marathon. You

squint your eyes at the entire history of

Olympic mascots. Days grow into nights in

bedrooms lit by scented candles. It was at

the last St. Patrick’s Day Parade where two

tubas become your song.

// first draft

First a storm seen from outer space. Embarrassed at what you don’t remember. The absolute rests in a pop song. In the catching of breath in the middle of a red lake. How people kiss the tips of their fingers and squint their eyes after winning in life. The day grows into night in bedrooms lit by scented candles. Our cellular phones better than sunsets. Horns announcing ...
The first storm seen from space. The rest of your life in the refrain of a pop song. You squint your eyes. The days grow into nights in wallpapered bedrooms, and French horns become another language in your body.

 

Noah's Commentary

With Poem Excluding Romance, I knew that I wanted to create an environment within the poem that felt removed, far away. Really with all of the Exclusion poems it was about setting a certain mood against the subjects and surrounding them with obscurity.

The first draft of Romance, from what I have on file, was a list of images – the storm, the pop song, the squinted eyes, etc. But do these images do anything? I don’t know, maybe. The next draft I had on file was an extension of those images, adding layers to them, dressing them appropriately.

The next draft I have on file is this one where St. Patrick’s Day makes an appearance. I am not sure why or even how this made it in the poem. I really hate the St. Patrick’s Day ending in this draft. I think, with that line, perhaps I was thinking about the actual holiday, and the drunken buffoonery surrounding it. At any rate, the St. Patrick’s Day image was so bad to me, that it shook the poem in a new direction, at least the ending of the poem. I knew something didn’t sound right in it’s language. It was at this point that I shifted and focused primarily on sound. I asked myself - How does this poem want to end? What is the music happening here? I ended up marrying the music and the ghost. And that was it. Though looking back on it, I really have no idea how I arrived at those choices - how I knew these were the images and sounds I wanted in this poem.

 

Noah Falck is the author of the full-length collection Snowmen Losing Weight (BatCat Press, 2012), and several chapbooks including Celebrity Dream Poems (Poor Claudia, 2013) Life As A Crossword Puzzle (Open Thread, 2009), Measuring Tape for the Midwest (Pavement Saw, 2008), & Homemade Engines from a Dream(Pudding House, 2007). He has received fellowships from the Kenyon Review Writers Workshop, The Ohio State University, and Antioch Writers’ Workshop. His poems have appeared widely in journals such as Boston Review, Columbia Poetry Review, Conduit, Crazyhorse, Denver Quarterly, Gulf Coast, Kenyon Review, Salt Hill Journal, and Poets.org. He curates the Silo City Reading Series, a multi-media summer series in an abandoned grain silo, and works as Education Director at Just Buffalo Literary Center in Buffalo, New York.