Storyscape Journal : The Literary Journal of Champions

Design
Kimiko Hahn

July 20, 2008
I need to prepare for my craft class on poetic closure. From Barbara Herrnstein-Smith’s book: … the conclusion of a poem has special status in the process, for it is only at that point that the total pattern—the structural principles which we have been testing—is revealed.

July 25, 2208
I’ve been thinking a great deal of the poems that I read as a child and how delicious they sounded. Urgency. Urgent tastes. I want to respond to them variously.

July 27, 2008
To consider poetic closure, is to consider foreclosure.

August 2, 2008
I decided I needed a quick-and-dirty exercise on poetic closure. Partly to show my ‘driving the closure,’ where in one sitting I compose several endings, put them away, do the same later, put away, then survey them all at a later date. This particular one is part of a summer of looking back at childhood influences. Maybe this one will become a poem, maybe not.

August 3, 2008
Harold and I have found another argiope! Which of course reminds me of our first summer in Mattituck—and Frost’s ‘Design.’ I will try responding to that old voice.

FIRST DRAFT
[false start]
Among our weedy-flowers, I found an argiope
only distinct by the web’s signature—
a zigzag down the center of its tiny …

*
Among our weedy-flowers, I found an argiope
only distinct by the signature zigzag
down the center of its minute web. Fragile
but sturdy enough for the downpour that noon:
by dusk I noticed it had abandoned its torn threads.
And staring into the black air in my own bed
I imagined what it means to weave in the dark,
to repair a daughter’s rancor
among the same stems and flowers.
So come daylight, while I walked the dog
I checked on the whereabouts of the spider

in the gray, still clammy weather
to find the design had returned and grown
more than perfect than when I was born.

*
more than perfect than when I was born.

more than perfect than when I was borne.

more than perfect than what I had borne.

more flawless than what I had borne.

more complete than…

…had returned more complete
nearly flawless than when I was born.

*
So come daylight, while I walked the dog
I checked on the whereabouts of the spider
[in the gray, still clammy morning/air/weather/gray/dew]
to find the design had returned more complete,/ precise,/exact,/ideal
nearly faultless than when I was born.

*
So come daylight, while I walked the dog
I checked on the whereabouts of the spider
in the gray, still clammy weather
to find the design had returned grown
and nearly faultless than when I was born.

*
So come daylight, while I walked the dog
I checked on the whereabouts of the spider
in the gray, still clammy weather
to find the design had returned grown
seemingly faultless than when I was born.

August 5, 2008

SECOND DRAFT
Among our weedy-flowers, I found an argiope
only distinct by the signature zigzag
down the center of its web, minute
but sturdy enough for the downpour that noon.
By dusk I noticed it had abandoned its torn threads.
And staring into the black air in my own bed
I imagined what it means to weave in the dark,
to repair a daughter’s rancor
among the same stems and flowers.
So come daylight, while I walked the dog
I checked on the whereabouts of the spider
in the gray, still clammy weather
to find the design had returned grown
seemingly faultless than when I was born.

August 5, 2008
I’d like to stay with the sonnet.

THIRD DRAFT
I found an argiope, among our weedy-flowers,
only distinct by the zigzag down the center

of its web, minute but sturdy enough for the breeze
then steady afternoon drizzle.

At dusk it abandoned its torn threads.
And from the assurance of my own bed

I imagined what it means to weave in the dark,
to repair a daughter’s rancor
among those same stems and flowers.

So come the radio alarm, I checked on the spider
in the gray, still clammy weather

to find the design had returned and grown
though less flawed than when I was born.

August 6, 2008
To consider poetic closure is to consider gratification. Completeness. Coherence.

August 7, 2008
Frustrations.

August 8, 2008
Need to try the opposite. Against first inclinations.

FOURTH DRAFT
I found an argiope, among our weedy-flowers,
only distinct by the zigzag down the center

of its web, minute but sturdy enough for the breeze
then steady afternoon drizzle.

Abandoning its torn threads at dusk
I imagined what it means to weave in the dark—

what the body knows as access
and what it realizes as secure axis

among those same stems and flowers
to repair a daughter’s rancor.

So come the radio alarm, I checked on the spider
in the gray, still clammy weather

to find the design had returned and grown
though less flawed than when I was born.

*
to find the design had returned and grown
as ever flawed than when I was born.

August 14, 2008
Harold has begun photographing the argiope every few days. It’s already half again as large as when we first spied it. I’m about to go back to the city to visit my girls—hoping to sneak coffee or walks in between their work and concert-going. Now that they are so busy, at times I feel desperate to see them. And time to try another draft without the couplet breaks. Hope for fluidity. I need to revise the first line—it’s too iambic!

FIFTH DRAFT
After Design

I found an argiope web strung between weedy-flowers,
its distinct zigzag down center,
minute but sturdy enough for a breeze
then steady afternoon drizzle.
Abandoning its torn threads at dusk,
I imagined weaving in the dark—
what the body knows as access,
what the nerves realize as true axis
among those same stems and flowers
to [repair] a daughter’s rancor.
So, at dawn’s alarm, I checked on the spider
in the gray, still clammy weather
to find the encoded design had returned
more delicately flawed than when I was born.

*
repair, indulge, cajole, rivet,

August 19, 2008
While I like the ending, it feels a bit too melodramatic. I’ll try reversing the order—a trick I recall from hearing C.D. talk about a student’s work.

SIXTH DRAFTS
After Design

An argiope strung its zigzag between our weeds,
minute but sturdy enough for a breeze
then steady afternoon rain.
I kept checking on its condition.
Abandoning its torn threads at dusk,
I imagined weaving in the dark—
what the body knows as access,
what the nerves realize as true axis
among those same stems and flowers
for repairing a daughter’s rancor.

So, at dawn’s alarm, I looked for the spider
in the gray, still clammy weather
to find the encoded design had returned
more delicately flawed than when I was born.

*
After Design

So, at dawn’s alarm, I looked for our spider
in the gray, still clammy weather
to find the encoded design had returned
more delicately flawed than when it was born.
Abandoning its torn threads that dusk,
I imagined weaving in the dark—
what the body knows as access,
what the nerves realize as true axis
among those same stems and flowers
for repairing a daughter’s rancor.
An argiope had strung its zigzag between weeds,
minute but sturdy enough for a breeze
then steady afternoon rain.
I kept checking on its condition.

August 20, 2008
A question now of the opening ‘so.’ Time to put this draft aside for more than a few days. Draft. Breeze.

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Issue 2, March 2009 We Don't Know and They Won't Tell Us \| previous next story \|	Design Kimiko Hahn *July 20, 2008* I need to prepare for my craft class on poetic closure. From Barbara Herrnstein-Smith’s book: … the conclusion of a poem has special status in the process, for it is only at that point that the total pattern—the structural principles which we have been testing—is revealed. *July 25, 2208* I’ve been thinking a great deal of the poems that I read as a child and how delicious they sounded. Urgency. Urgent tastes. I want to respond to them variously. *July 27, 2008* To consider poetic closure, is to consider foreclosure. *August 2, 2008* I decided I needed a quick-and-dirty exercise on poetic closure. Partly to show my ‘driving the closure,’ where in one sitting I compose several endings, put them away, do the same later, put away, then survey them all at a later date. This particular one is part of a summer of looking back at childhood influences. Maybe this one will become a poem, maybe not. *August 3, 2008* Harold and I have found another argiope! Which of course reminds me of our first summer in Mattituck—and Frost’s ‘Design.’ I will try responding to that old voice. FIRST DRAFT [false start] Among our weedy-flowers, I found an argiope only distinct by the web’s signature— a zigzag down the center of its tiny … * Among our weedy-flowers, I found an argiope only distinct by the signature zigzag down the center of its minute web. Fragile but sturdy enough for the downpour that noon: by dusk I noticed it had abandoned its torn threads. And staring into the black air in my own bed I imagined what it means to weave in the dark, to repair a daughter’s rancor among the same stems and flowers. So come daylight, while I walked the dog I checked on the whereabouts of the spider in the gray, still clammy weather to find the design had returned and grown more than perfect than when I was born. * more than perfect than when I was born. more than perfect than when I was borne. more than perfect than what I had borne. more flawless than what I had borne. more complete than… …had returned more complete nearly flawless than when I was born. * So come daylight, while I walked the dog I checked on the whereabouts of the spider [in the gray, still clammy morning/air/weather/gray/dew] to find the design had returned more complete,/ precise,/exact,/ideal nearly faultless than when I was born. * So come daylight, while I walked the dog I checked on the whereabouts of the spider in the gray, still clammy weather to find the design had returned grown and nearly faultless than when I was born. * So come daylight, while I walked the dog I checked on the whereabouts of the spider in the gray, still clammy weather to find the design had returned grown seemingly faultless than when I was born. *August 5, 2008* SECOND DRAFT Among our weedy-flowers, I found an argiope only distinct by the signature zigzag down the center of its web, minute but sturdy enough for the downpour that noon. By dusk I noticed it had abandoned its torn threads. And staring into the black air in my own bed I imagined what it means to weave in the dark, to repair a daughter’s rancor among the same stems and flowers. So come daylight, while I walked the dog I checked on the whereabouts of the spider in the gray, still clammy weather to find the design had returned grown seemingly faultless than when I was born. *August 5, 2008* I’d like to stay with the sonnet. THIRD DRAFT I found an argiope, among our weedy-flowers, only distinct by the zigzag down the center of its web, minute but sturdy enough for the breeze then steady afternoon drizzle. At dusk it abandoned its torn threads. And from the assurance of my own bed I imagined what it means to weave in the dark, to repair a daughter’s rancor among those same stems and flowers. So come the radio alarm, I checked on the spider in the gray, still clammy weather to find the design had returned and grown though less flawed than when I was born. *August 6, 2008* To consider poetic closure is to consider gratification. Completeness. Coherence. *August 7, 2008* Frustrations. *August 8, 2008* Need to try the opposite. Against first inclinations. FOURTH DRAFT I found an argiope, among our weedy-flowers, only distinct by the zigzag down the center of its web, minute but sturdy enough for the breeze then steady afternoon drizzle. Abandoning its torn threads at dusk I imagined what it means to weave in the dark— what the body knows as access and what it realizes as secure axis among those same stems and flowers to repair a daughter’s rancor. So come the radio alarm, I checked on the spider in the gray, still clammy weather to find the design had returned and grown though less flawed than when I was born. * to find the design had returned and grown as ever flawed than when I was born. *August 14, 2008* Harold has begun photographing the argiope every few days. It’s already half again as large as when we first spied it. I’m about to go back to the city to visit my girls—hoping to sneak coffee or walks in between their work and concert-going. Now that they are so busy, at times I feel desperate to see them. And time to try another draft without the couplet breaks. Hope for fluidity. I need to revise the first line—it’s too iambic! FIFTH DRAFT After Design I found an argiope web strung between weedy-flowers, its distinct zigzag down center, minute but sturdy enough for a breeze then steady afternoon drizzle. Abandoning its torn threads at dusk, I imagined weaving in the dark— what the body knows as access, what the nerves realize as true axis among those same stems and flowers to [repair] a daughter’s rancor. So, at dawn’s alarm, I checked on the spider in the gray, still clammy weather to find the encoded design had returned more delicately flawed than when I was born. * repair, indulge, cajole, rivet, *August 19, 2008* While I like the ending, it feels a bit too melodramatic. I’ll try reversing the order—a trick I recall from hearing C.D. talk about a student’s work. SIXTH DRAFTS After Design An argiope strung its zigzag between our weeds, minute but sturdy enough for a breeze then steady afternoon rain. I kept checking on its condition. Abandoning its torn threads at dusk, I imagined weaving in the dark— what the body knows as access, what the nerves realize as true axis among those same stems and flowers for repairing a daughter’s rancor. So, at dawn’s alarm, I looked for the spider in the gray, still clammy weather to find the encoded design had returned more delicately flawed than when I was born. * After Design So, at dawn’s alarm, I looked for our spider in the gray, still clammy weather to find the encoded design had returned more delicately flawed than when it was born. Abandoning its torn threads that dusk, I imagined weaving in the dark— what the body knows as access, what the nerves realize as true axis among those same stems and flowers for repairing a daughter’s rancor. An argiope had strung its zigzag between weeds, minute but sturdy enough for a breeze then steady afternoon rain. I kept checking on its condition. *August 20, 2008* A question now of the opening ‘so.’ Time to put this draft aside for more than a few days. Draft. Breeze.
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