hmm. ok, that didn't work out as planned, haha. I actually thought of Lynch after I wrote my last comment, and then went back to sleep. There are a few threads here in the narrative, all of which are true stories. I was trying to use the different indentations to signal each thread (like a timeline). The Christmas party is where my grandfather met my grandmother (Dolores), and chased her up the stairs. He got caught by a trip-wire during the Battle of the Bulge. The explosive they used was Tnt that had nails glued to it. Armless Jesus was the only thing standing in a city he was marching through, etc. Thanks again for everything you've said. I'll try to work this out and repost it.

I'm not sure how adding in style changes helps create a denotative narrative.  

Let me be specific. 

>>we woke in snow  

Okay. That's a little odd. But the meaning of the sentence is clear. The speaker and one other character were asleep, and the narrative joins them as they wake up, surrounded by snow for some reason. There are questions about why the speaker was sleeping in the snow, but it's only the first line. These will hopefully be made more clear by context.  

>>tripwire 'round my leg  

This is quite a surreal statement. As far as I know, neither I nor anyone I know has ever woken up ensnared in some sort of animal trap. So rather than clarifying anything, there are about a dozen more questions now, including "who/what is the speaker", "are they human", "are they being hunted", "if so, why".  Again, this is early in the poem, so these questions can certainly be addressed later on. But it's concerning that there are so many unanswered questions already. 

>>it was at an RCA

Thanks, Lana. Your comments are invaluable. I've been trying to work on the through-line problem I have since you mentioned it on one of my tygerprance / liondance poems.  
&nbsp;  
I had T.E. Hulme in the back of my mind while writing this, with his quick image changes, so I think that influenced the outcome a bit. Do you think the following formatting changes would help at all?  

&nbsp;  

we woke in snow  
&nbsp; &nbsp; trip-wire ’round my leg  
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; it was at an RCA Christmas party  
&nbsp; corpses as high as the ceiling  
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; and I chased Dolores up the fire escape  
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; a crucifix in the rubble  
&nbsp; &nbsp; those sonsobitches were everywhere  
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; putting on her face  
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; and Jesus had no arms  
&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; and I pulled you from the sea  
&nbsp; 

This is pretty challenging work. I have to admit, I'm not sure if I'm on board with this yet or not. I think I *could* be, as there's some incredible imagery here. But I also think that maybe the fact that I *could be* but am not currently, shows that the piece still has a ways to go in the writing process.  

Often on this sub, I feel that some authors simply write too much. Or perhaps edit too little. Their poems come across as wild, rambling snaggles of thornbushes, full of detours and red herrings, interesting but unnecessary asides, and meaningless exposition that tells more than it shows.  

Here it's almost as if there's the reverse problem. This poem is *all* show and no tell. And that's great, in theory. But there's also a through-line that's missing somehow. As if I know all these images are connected *somehow*. I can sense the roots beneath this cedar grove which interconnect all these separate trees. But I can't for the life of me work out what exactly it those connections 

I'm inclined to agree with the comment above for the most part. Although I find this somewhat beautiful and pleasant to read in parts, I wish I could connect each image presented to me and paint a more vivid picture of what is happening.

we woke in snow  
trip-wire ’round my leg  
it was at an RCA Christmas party  
corpses as high as the ceiling  
and I chased Dolores up the fire escape  
a crucifix in the rubble  
those sonsobitches were everywhere  
putting on her face  
and Jesus had no arms  
and I pulled you from the sea  
TNT and nails  
a girl dying on the street  
she was radiant then  

&amp;nbsp;

[1](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/6obs7o/chiastic_fugue_attempt/) [2](https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/6od4a2/sunnyside/)

Recollection