Friday, October 3, 2014

October 3: Revision, Lisel Mueller, "Moon Fishing"

This weekend, I have to work on an essay I submitted for publication.  The editor of the magazine asked me for a few revisions.  Small things, really, but they're going to take me a while to do.  Frankly, I was surprised to even get an offer for acceptance.  I've gotten used to the e-mails that start out, "Thanks for your recent submission, but we regret..."

The essay is about Christmas and bipolar disorder and talking animals.  It's weird.  Unmarketable.  Obviously, I was mistaken.  The editor was very enthusiastic, and his suggestions were fantastic.  He didn't give me a deadline for the revision, but I don't want to put it off.  So, I made a deadline for myself.  Next weekend.

When I read a great poem, I always think about its composition.  How long it took to write.  How many revisions it went through.  How many times it was rejected by editors.  Rough drafts of famous poems are so interesting.  Just seeing words crossed out, stanzas removed, line breaks moved.  It sort of lets you into the mind of the poet.

Saint Marty wonders how long Lisel Mueller worked on the poem below.  

Moon Fishing

by:  Lisel Mueller

When the moon was full they came to the water,
some with pitchforks, some with rakes,
some with sieves and ladles,
and one with a silver cup.

And they fished till a traveler passed them and said,
"Fools,
to catch the moon you must let your women
spread their hair on the water--
even the wily moon will leap to that bobbing
net of shimmering threads,
gaps and flop till its silver scales
lie black and still at your feet."

And they fished with the hair of their women
till a traveler passed them and said,
"Fools,
do you think the moon is caught lightly,
with glitter and silk threads?
You must cut out your hearts and bait your hooks
with those dark animals;
what matter you lose your hearts to reel in your dream?"

And they fished with their tight, hot parts
till a traveler passed them and said,
"Fools,
what good is the moon to a heartless man?
Put back your hearts and get on your knees
and drink as you never have,
until your throats are coated with silver
and your voices ring like bells."

And they fished with their lips and tongues
until the water was gone
and the moon had slipped away
in the soft, bottomless mud.

I much prefer moon pies to moon fishing

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