Congrats to Eduardo C. Corral

Congrats to Eduardo C. Corral for winning the Yale Series for younger poets. You dogg!

I am still revising and am finding myself stuck, so I'm going to look at this poem, which seems one of the weaker ones in the manuscript and post it, so I can really look at it. Have I listened to too much advice or is what's in my gut about this one coming from wanting to please others, particularly a friend who edited an earlier version of it. I've cut so much out of the poem out, I can't seem to look at it and make changes at the moment, but I know presenting a poem to others can really get me to take another look at what needs to be done. I'm stuck for a bit, so hopefully this will get me freed up to make some decisions about it.

Ouray’s Eyes

-Chief of the Ute tribe of Colorado. Born in Taos in 1833, dead at 47 after a trip to D.C.


He knew four languages [ okay... Brave, you knew four languages
but they named him savage: but they called you savage.]
Ute, Apache, Spanish, English.
No smile, only a subtle turn
away from the camera.

They called him diplomatic, [ How many times should I repeat "Brave"?
patient, friend of whites. Yes, there's some room to add imagery,
In his gray eyes, subdued rage, and evoke more emotion. It's too prosy.]
an arrow flung through the distance
between Colorado and D.C..

They called him beleaguered.
His eyes hold the gray in the world
with dead-eyed dignity.

Braves held the same gaze,
asked the same old questions
of genocide. And what of their
silence?

We are innocent,
the world proclaims,
yet none of us clean
enough to gaze back
into Ouray's eyes.


*

Maybe I'll post the earlier version later. It's transmorphed into this and I'm not sure if critic is merely opposed to the politics of it all. Lots of abstractions, so I might re-ad some imagery.

Nope. This one does need changes. Or possibly I should cut it? But it wasn't really criticized by reviewers. I'll try to mess with it here. I will start it possibly like this:

Brave, they called you beleaguered, your eyes held the gray in the world with dead-eyed dignity/ Hands thick and lips turned downward in a small frown./ Your round hard gut... unwavering.

HERE'S A NEWER VERSION FOR NOW--


Ouray’s Eyes

-Chief of the Ute tribe of Colorado. Born in Taos in 1833, dead at 47 after a trip to D.C.


Brave, they called you beleaguered,
your eyes held the gray in the world
with dead-eyed dignity. Hands thick
and lips turned downward in a small frown.
Your round hard gut unwavering.

Brave, you knew four languages
but they called you savage:
Ute, Apache, Spanish, English.
No smile, only a subtle turn
away from the camera.

They called you diplomatic,
patient, friend of whites.
Feigning friendship to keep
Your people alive.
In your gray eyes, subdued rage,
an arrow shot.

Braves held the same gaze,
asked the same old questions
of genocide. And what of their
silence?

We are innocent,
the world proclaims,
yet none of us clean
enough to gaze back.