If I’m being perfectly honest, the reason Karen Solie’s “The Trees in Riverdale Park” jumped out to me at first is because the title had “Riverdale” in it. But unlike the TV show Riverdale, this poem is actually well-written and has much for me to unpack.
To summarize, I felt like this poem was about how reaccessing a memory and recording it automatically distorts the authenticity of the event. Simply by writing down her observations of Riverdale Park, she has already altered the truth. There are many psychology studies asserting the fact that eyewitness accounts are not completely valid. Additionally, simply the way a question is phrased i.e “how fast was the car going when it bumped into the other car?” and “how fast was the car going when it smashed into the other car?” can drastically alter the eyewitness testimonies to a car accident. Naturally, through writing, and poetry writing in particular, specific words are chosen to elicit a feeling. Because of this, all poetry is not necessarily “accurate.”
I do not believe that a poem can be purely factual, but it can be true.
The first thing that strikes me about Solie’s poem is the use of scientific language. In the very first line, she uses the word “quadrisect.” Later on, the theoretical language continues: logic, theorem, hypotheses. This genre of words, especially combined with the specific lists of details Solie employs (as in the specific species of trees and secret bars), gives a sense of concreteness and a desire to turn her observations into fact. For the most part, the poem is objective and relies on visuals. It reminds me of chemistry lab in a way, where reactions and materials must be carefully observed and recorded. I would have loved to see this played up even more, maybe through use of texture or color or quantifying something in the scene.
Nevertheless, the attempt to stick to the facts goes astray. Solie’s romanticism manages to slip into the poem. Perhaps even corrupted in the very first stanza with the metaphor “square acre/ white as the page in February,” I don’t view this as a failure or even a tension in the poem. It goes back to what I was saying before: this is the poet speaking her truth. Though less factual, this intimacy to her thoughts and comparison give Riverdale Park a greater authenticity and history. Still, it’s worth noting that there are few adjectives and flower-y language in the poem. Rather, the distortion comes from Solie’s use of curious use of nouns that transform the tangibility of the park into some theoretical headspace.
The stanzas and line breaks have no discernible pattern. They tend to end on strong words and there is minimal enjambment. She chooses instead to break lines at the end of clauses or phrases, which plays into the logic of the language she uses. However, there is a stanza that stands out to me: I’ve never understood what “starlit” means.
This line stands out for several reasons. Firstly, it’s the only single-line stanza, so it feels like an interruption or an interjection. Secondly, this is the first and only instance of the first-person pronoun “I.” There are several instances of the word “us” used previously, but it seems defamiliarized, as if speaking to humanity or a larger collective group. The usage of the “us” is not as intimate or startling as the sudden appearance of the “I.” Thirdly, this line is an abrupt admission of doubt or skepticism towards what the poet knows. She seems so firm in her knowledge in the previous stanzas, but this is the line where the poem really turns. The stars are not strong enough to pierce the darkness, and her poems cannot really illuminate the truth, but there is still beauty in knowing that there is a world to describe and capture.
Rules for a poem:
1) Use a mundane, everyday scene or landscape. Use as many visuals and specific names as possible.
2) Take a field of science or another academic field. Create a word bank of vocabulary from this field and try to use as many of those words as possible in a poem.
3) Use only concrete, tangible metaphors.
4) Reference self in the poem as little as possible or not at all.
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