Airiness

Even free verse can feel more constructed than flowing. Just the carefulness of the writing itself sparks images of the poet’s controlling hand, moving relentlessly forward, laying down images, self-consciously calculating the line breaks. What a treat when occasionally a poem surprises and lifts off the page.

Pamela Porter’s “Coyotes” in the current issue of the online magazine Juniper¹ is a wonderful example. How does she create such easy airiness? Part of the effect comes from sweeping across space from close up and small to grand scale and back.

For example, from the intimate details of the coyotes, “the young, the old, / who threw their heads back”, the focus swings to the great expanse of the heavens: they “sang the stars in, a risen / curve, a dome of night as / the stars one by one broke through.” Then again, back and forth, from the coyotes’ “cold desire” to the grand scale “such a moon / that soared into the sky”, suddenly shrinking to their “yips and howls”, then back up “who sang a river until the hills / lay down”.  By the end, grand and small have magically pulled together when even the stars, like the coyotes, “curled / their tails around them.”

But best to read the whole poem to experience the liftoff for yourself.

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1. Pamela Porter, “Coyotes”, Juniper, Volume 8, Issue 1.