A borderland is nowhere, personified.
Neither side claims ownership,
it feels abandoned, forlorn.
There's a stretch of Highway 26,
on the Indiana/Illinois border
-- flat, featureless, nothing but pure east/west --
possibly Eisenhower's original pavement.
Neither state seems to maintain it,
The grass is wild and tangled;
a lone tree stands: gnarled; twisted.
Six miles on either side,
that's the no-man's-land; from US-41
in Indiana, to Hoopeston in Illinois;
the car is the tallest thing in the landscape.
The actual border: no more than a line --
a kink in the road where each state's definition of
east/west is two degrees off from the other.
Driving it is as if holding one's breath --
one feels the uneasy misalignment;
rationality is put on temporary hold;
anything seems discordantly possible.
And then we coast into Hoopeston, Illinois --
not much more than a few houses in the prairie,
a symbolic outpost of civilization, nonetheless.
We bought a beer there on Sunday
-- Something Indiana won't allow its people --
and we returned with our trophy,
proof that on the other side, SOMETHING is different.
--ns 2-21-2007
Author notes
Border lands are creepy, not-quite-right places in the world. Check out Stephen King's "Black House" for a better description of what I mean.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Surreal
You describitions expose a surrealist hue; you have an eye for the stange. These lands are between the borders of reality, encompassing the barren space that seperates them. This is a world of nonexistance, one without true substance or meaning. Its as if your poem is spliceing many seperate emotions and experiences, and pasteing them back together in a fluid stream of conciousnuss.
language: 4, rhythm: 3, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 4.
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well done
NoodleNoggin - This is a good one. I've driven cross country a lot, probably on this same stretch of highway, or at least one real close to it. I have only one reservation and that is the second (and now concluding) line of the fifth stanza. I think you could break that line up into three parts since there is no definite rhyme scheme. Other than that it is a good atmospheric piece. It put me in mind of a song I wrote a few years ago called Out On The Borderline.
Out on the borderline
they're waiting for the night
they've got dreams - they've got dreams
but everything has got to be set up
just right
This has got to be the night
This has got to be the night
Out on the borderline
there are people with the hunger
out on the borderline
there are people with the cure
there are people with nothing
there are people
who cannot find their hands
out on the borderline
i'm looking for you
I know you'll come through
out on the borderline
crazy in love
looking for an opening
waiting on your eyes
out on the borderline
this has got to be the night
out on the borderline
this has got to be the night
Sorry, couldn't resist. Your poem struck me down deep because I love isolated, endless stretches of highway and your piece struck a balance between off-handed comment and real involvement. Thanks for the read, MJ
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Wow, thanks!
Is that a country song? :-P You're right about that long line...I just edited it to break it a little better. I think I forgot to hit at the end of the line or something. Blame it on typo-fingers. Thanks for reading it, and I'm glad you liked it!
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Really fine atmospheric writing.
Hi, NN. I like this car trip through ominous borderland - it has a feeling of zombie-land to it, not quite in reality, yet it IS one reality of our lives: those areas inside us that are "flat, featureless, (un)maintained..." I don't know if you wanted to metaphor your poem in that direction, but I sure felt it as I read it. Good writing!
The physical descriptions of the lay of the land are just right: purposeless and odd; then getting a beer on the other side brings the poem down to daily reality again: nice touch.
Your ref to Eisenhower's "original pavement" delighted me. I take it as a little footnote to that president's idea of building humongous interstate hightways, but it also refs his homeland.
This was fun to read and see in my mind's eye.
Lad -
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Thanks!
It's always cool to see what people get from a poem, at least I think so. It felt like a bit of a cop-out to tie the poem back to reality at the end, but it seemed to want to do that. Yeah, the Eisenhower Interstate system, responsible for so much pavement. Thanks!
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hey noodle noggin
i enjoyed this and could sense the barreness and feeling of being in a wasteland. the language you used seemed to be understated and sub-dued which is appropriate for how one might talk if they were at such a place. I also liked the last line.
dave -
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Thanks...
...for reading! Glad you enjoyed it.
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Hi,
Firstly I was surprised at the subject of the poem, I had thought, as you probably intended when selecting the title, that this would be a poem on war torn lands, so to find that it was actually something far more mundane, was quite unusual but pleasing nonetheless.
My main comment is on the redundancies, they abound. A few examples are:
L2 is already implied in ‘nowhere’ on L1.
L9 is redundant due to ‘abandoned’ in L4.
L11 & 12 contradict L7.
L16 has been established in the previous three stanzas.
I think that this could be trimmed a fair bit and in doing so would provide a real tight and interesting poem, the subject is strong and as I said before quite novel.
I also think you should reconsider the end line, it feels too much like you wanted to say ‘the grass is greener’ but didn’t want to write exactly those words.
If you decide to undertake any revision on this I’d look forward to reading it, let me know.
Thanks for the opportunity to read and comment.
Rgds
hobby
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Thank you...
...for the honesty, and for reading my thing. I see your points...let me respond. L2...you're right, it's redundant; clicheed, too. L9 was in direct reference to "Eisenhower's pavement," but I see where it could be read as you say.
L11/12 do contradict L7, you're right -- it's a case of reality not reading right in fiction...that area IS flat and largely featureless. The car feels like the tallest point on the landscape. Then there's a lone tree or something...it's just the way it is, but it doesn't read right, you're right.
L16, again, you're right. OTOH, some of those redundancies are there because I wanted to hammer in a point; I wanted to bash on it from 9 directions. Maybe I'm just a redundant person. :-)
The last line? I really meant it more as: "I know that the dirt didn't change color, that the people don't speak a different language, the sky isn't green, and that everything seems the same -- but there is at least SOMETHING that changed when we crossed the border." But I see your point, and I'll see if there's anything I can clean up and still feel good about. -
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Good changes, L14 fits in well.
I like that the length of L16 physically mimics the descriptor applied to it in L15.
On L10 there might be an opportunity to add some detail by changing ‘stands’ to something like ‘leans’ suggesting a prevailing wind or the effects of a wild storm – just a thought.?
Rgds
hobby
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Thanks for considering my comments, as I read your reply I thought what a fantastic line:
"The car feels like the tallest point on the landscape" it would really suit the poem.
Good luck and let me know if you make any revisions it always good to see how a work develops.
Rgds
hobby
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Oooh, I read Black House, and I know exactly what you mean about borderlands being shadowy netherworlds-- Bermuda Trainglesque, a blurring of dimensional lines, perhaps, or a weigh station for wayward spirits? Either way, it does make the back of your neck tingle.
I live in Kansas City, Missouri, and the no man's land that divides KCMO from KC, Kansas is all very much like you described in this poem-- neither state really wants to maintain those areas, and, as you so astutely put it, "no one travels TO the border. . ." (Excellent line!)
What I love about your poems is that they are so absolutely modern, revealing fragments of our times that will not be able to be produced in a few short years. I love how you include geographical details-- Hwy 26, Indiana/Illinois borders, Hoopeston. We should sing (sometimes laments, sometimes psalms) of our hometowns.
"Eisenhower's original pavement"-- heh. Probably true, too. Great image there.
And another favorite line/image-- the reference to the states being off two degrees on their estimate of east/west. That sort of mathmematical difference can mean the difference between a perfectly ordinary road, and the type of sinister ether realm that you reference with Stephen King.
You have done a great job of conveying the vagueness and listlessness of such places with words like: forlorn, gnarled, misalignment.
Overall, a real gem of a poem that stirs and thrills my Midwestern blood.
Cheers,
Pie
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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Thank you!
Thank you very much, CP! I try hard to make my work modern...yet not load it with timely references that people will forget in two years. Highways and towns should endure...
Thanks again!
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