I was quite pleased with “Men at the Library” when I first posted it, hot from my fevered brow. But I soon realized that I had made a simple mistake in strategy that weakened the poem. Repeatedly, I talked about the characters as types, in plural, rather than as particular individuals–even abstracting my own presence. “This one” is almost always stronger in a poem than “this sort.” The one, we experience; the sort, we extrapolate. Abstraction is almost always weaker than depiction.
So here is the poem again, revised–and to my ear–much improved.
Men at the Library
The youngest man at the library makes war
with unknown adversaries all across the planet.
Behind the cubicle wall he flexes the iron thews
of his imagination, making mutton of all comers.
The next came a-jog behind a double-wide stroller,
to nursemaid towheads promised a good story.
Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, he murmurs
baritone replies to a steady stream of soprano inquiry.
There is the unemployed man, who emails
resumes like candle lanterns set afloat, and
the discontented man, who grinds his many axes
with reluctant pen pals in elected office.
An older man relaxes behind the paper, happy
to be out of the house, for whatever reason,
and despite the fact that the very same paper
was on his doorstep when he went out.
Saturday in the library, one can be undisturbed
among company, a particular masculine pleasure,
like holding court, but without the nuisance
of issuing orders or hearing pleas for judgment.
Then there is me–a bookish man–basking
in the convivial presence of my peers
(as represented by the long rows of volumes)
who spent their lifetimes scratching at the page.
In time I may become like the eldest, who nods
in the best chair, absorbing an obscure tome
(apparently by mental telepathy)–whose friends
are long buried, whose labor is no longer required.
Note: published in “Light Year” 2019 Liberty Street Books
Very good rendition – it formed vivid, yet “soft,” portraits of the types of men at a library as well as including a peep at you, the poet. What about pairing this poem with ones on the women at the library? or the children? The collection could grow and become a nice addition to a “poetry day at the library” during Library week.
Thanks, Dale, for legitimizing us guys who like to use the library. Here’s one anecdote about library use you might enjoy. When I, a senior citizen, couldn’t get my ipod to deliver email, I asked the desk librarian (Indian Lake Library) to send me the next teenager who walked in to help me. Within minutes an active 14-year-old and his buddy came up to me and pulled identical ipods out of their pockets. Within a few more minutes, they had me on-line and answering ether messages like – well, a seventh grader. So today’s libraries provide many services including inter-generational support.
You can certainly see your enthusiasm within the work you write. The world hopes for more passionate writers like you who are not afraid to say how they believe. Always follow your heart.