.
Carving Fingers
“Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.”
—St. Paul
Percy exhales with a scowl and he spits. In his hickory
fingers, an obstinate block; in his critical snicker, a
grin; on his table, a cup of the bitterest chicory
left to go cold, but the bowl of his pipe has a flicker, a
feeling that working the knots is a chance at embellishing
images trying to rise from the hardwood. Discovering
gnarls can be knuckles, he sees it all now, and he’s relishing
everything: Time for the knife or forever be hovering.
This is the artist primeval, his raw ingenuity
proving the gift in his carving, his grit and tenacity
mastering flaws, his poetically deft ambiguity
turning his fingers to art with implicit audacity.
This is a Cajun immersed in the worst of Acadia,
cursing and grinning. And working his way to Arcadia.
.
Acadia: The term Acadia today refers to areas associated with the former French colony, Acadia or Acadie, including New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, Maine, and southern Louisiana (where the name Acadia evolved into the term Cajun).
.
.
Daniel Kemper is a systems engineer living in California.
Wow! I love the way you’ve used perfect and imperfect rhymes throughout, but especially in that first quatrain.
Hi Christopher,
Thank you for that. The first quatrain was fun. It actually started out from a real person, from when Kitty Hawk was very rural- still unincorporated land. He was not a cajun, but that’s the poem that was there to be brought out. His name was Percy Carawan.
A brilliant poem. The matching vowels are so melodious throughout. I love the line, “embellishing images trying to rise from the hardwood,” which embodies the collegial combat between artists and their tangible inspirations. The compactness of the poem (no line breaks) feels just right, as though the “obstinate block” awaits carving. Acadia (our indelicate communities) and Arcadia (a tranquil, idyllic province) are juxtaposed cleverly and mirror the other lines in the poem.
Howdy Hari,
Thank you for the props. At times during composition, I was a bit uncertain, wondering if my mouth weren’t a bit too full. I really like your phrase “collegial combat.” It’s true, and yet, as an artist is in the act of creation, the artist is one with the creation — which I’d hoped to hint at with Percy’s “hickory fingers,” which I tried to make readable as the fingers he was carving on or with.
This is a wonderful poem of images describing wood carved into an artistic sculpture. I can feel the artist preparing to carve and then getting on with his self-imposed task of love and fulfillment.
Good morning, Roy,
I’m really happy that sense came out. It felt more and more like the process of writing a poem as well, which I’d hoped to symbolize here. For me at least, there’s a substantial amount of pre-thought and pre-tinkereing before I really settle in.
Some intricate rhyming. Took a while to get the unfamiliar meter, but paid off when I did.
Thanks for the read, Daniel.
Yo Paul,
I’m thankful you stuck with it and thankful it paid off. Working in Dactyls is pretty freaking tricky. Actually, hiphop works with them a great deal, though only playing by ear as it were, but a really vibrant source of experimentation. Learning to write in them was a lot like learning to shave with my off-hand. I’d start shaving, whistle a tune, and magically I’d notice the razor was in my dominant hand. Similarly, I’d be cruising in dactyls and out of nowhere I’d find iambs slipping in. Also fun about it was that I think practicing in dactyls made my iambic writing better. Not sure, could just have been a sense of relief at the time 🙂
Daniel, this is compelling. You use rhyme and meter brilliantly to express the melding of the artist and his work.
Hi Mary,
Awesome, I’m so glad it had a strong effect for you. I had visions of Escher’s “Drawing Hands” come to mind often.
The use of the progressive tense and the gerund throughout gives this poem vitality and matches the way the sculptor is trying to give life to a piece of hardwood. The form matches the subject. The enjambment throughout also gives the poem action and flow. “Discovering gnarls can be knuckles,” is marvelous.
Wow, Geoffrey–
Super tickled by your observation. I really try hard to have form bring out the subject bring out the form. I’m particularly pleased you liked: “Discovering gnarls can be knuckles.” A friend gave me a few tips and the word “gnarls” that just clicked all into place (after a certain amount of struggle, lol.)
A sonnet with triple rhymes in every line, and every one of them a PERFECT triple! Daniel, it’s good to hear you again in this poetically deft work about an artist from the forest primeval. Nice allusion to Longfellow’s Evangeline, and an excellent portrait in the style of that Prelude. An independent man’s man intent on making something of his gifts–which include an atmosphere and a culture. As I recall, the chicory in the coffee (coffee about which you have formerly had much to say) is an old custom in Louisiana. This carving whets the regional frontier taste for more.
Yo Dr. Coats,
All the comments so far have been valuable, but I confess to looking for yours because of your eye, ear, mind, etc. You are certainly one who knows how tricky all this is to set up and have latch together smoothly as a unit. Thrilled you caught the Evangaline– how could I get so deeply into dactyls and not tip my hat to Longfellow? I’m charmed and humbled that you remember other poems of mine. Yup, about the chicory. I actually set aside a summer to drill with dactyls, about an hour a day — playing with different ways to make them, sending myself long emails whose prose was dactylic, nonsense etc was fine, just to get the beat.
If I can keep my life in order, y’all will be seeing a lot more of me…
Very clever! Thoroughly enjoyable
Thank you Rohini. I’m happy to have provided a little bit of enjoyment~
First of all, I’d like to thank Evan for his engagement and for helping me think through a few “knots” in this poem. As far as I’ve been able to find, there are no anthologies or third-party publishers with a poem in perfect dactylic meter in them, let alone a sonnet. Thank you, Evan and SCP, for making it happen!
I second all of the above! I am particularly mesmerized by the sounds, especially the rhymes of the first four lines, and the frequent alliteration or assonance from the final word of a line to the first word of the next line. And I’m fascinated by the literal “working out” of the epigraph in the poem!
Hi Cynthia!
Thank you for positive vibes and details that you point out. It’s really motivating! One more little bit of mischief; I was very aware when matching material to method/content to form, that writing about carving fingers in dactyls had the sweet connection that dactyl is basically Greek for “finger.” Hee hee!
Daniel, it’s great to see more of your work. I am thoroughly intrigued by your poem. I can see the amount of effort you have afforded this piece and appreciate all the intricacies… yet the way it reads has such a smooth, mellifluous flow it appears effortless. An extraordinary piece that invites several readings to appreciate your skill to the max. Thank you!
Susan, I’m ‘sorry to reply so late. My life and person are pretty erratic these days. Being well-acquainted with the quality of your word smithing, praise from you carries a double-impact.
I think I read you hinting that you, as a wordsmith, got the reason why I come right out and say, “his poetically deft ambiguity” to show that the poem is as much about writing poems as it is about carving.
I hope it will continue to reward as many readings as you chose to give it! Thank you for your praise!
It’s hard to add anything that has not already been said. This is quite wonderful to read and cries out to be read out loud. A most skilful piece of writing. We salute you Daniel.
Jeff, thank you for checking in. I hope to continue at this level of quality. I’m humbled by your praise in summary and thrilled anew with each response. I do need to apologize for being late to the chase, though. I’m sorry about that. And thank you again for your praise.
Watching carving fingers carving fingers, the reader gets to follow not just aptitude, technique, and mastery but struggle, effort, and obstacle, and the interplay gives this poem its fascinating texture. Seems like there’s no royal road to Arcadia but Percy has it in him to relish rougher terrain.
Hi Monika!
Maybe in a certain journey-is-the-destination way, the relishing IS Arcadia! Thank you for your comment, so terrifically meta-structured that I know you got it all and enjoyed it. Hope to have more that please you soon. Just gotta get around some course work and select a few…
I very much enjoyed the dactylic pentameter. Not one I run into very much, but handled here excellently. Margaret commented on the Louisiana references first, so I won’t repeat them — although reading “hickory” (hick-o-rah) to rhyme with “snicker, a” forces a southern (or Cajun) accent. I thought that was a nice touch.
Technique aside, the poem also offers a rich image and description of the creative process. And poets (you allude to this), musicians and all artists I think can easily relate to the way you describe the creative process; making do with the materials to bring out one’s vision.
This was a true pleasure to read!
Adam! It’s great to see you. This poem in dactylic pentameter is just the start of something huge for which I hope to get your expert input at some point — being a composer as I recall, right? I hope to post fairly soon in some different meters, but in short I’m hoping to converse with you at length about development of the mirror image of “symphonic poems,” i.e. “poetic symphonies.” Thank you for the perceptive read and detailed feedback.