The fact that Z has to send/post a picture of the event for the poem to really to take hold hurts the poem. Maybe you could give the reader just a bit more to make it make sense of what and why it (i.e. “Nature” is being said. I am afraid that the name just doesn’t cut it. Of course, I am sure hatter’s hare will disagree, but what does she know, she only drinks pilsner. I think we get that idea when we look at the picture, but alone I think the poem fails. Initially I was afraid you had holed up in the john with a tattered copy of “Iron John”.

Is this a poem or simply a collection of statements with a tag line at the end? I need to know.

Nutty and impressive (in the way that it leaves an impression). I like the unusual formatting. On the downside, I feel like there is an oversimplification, or a misunderstanding someplace; just a feeling.

Ack. Seeds - I hate seeds.

Okay - lots of really interesting and good things happening in this piece! Great imagery. The second stanza though - it just doesn't gel for me. I think you went a tad too far in the simile then the further description of how you were assembled - the whole yard gnome/lawn thing. Almost starts to sound like a bad detective novel "she was like the night, really dark and when I was around her I would always wack my shins" - okay, an extreme bad example.

I can hear it speaking to me, but I'm not sure what it's saying - it is interesting, but puzzling. I don't mind puzzles. As an aside, a nocturne is usually about the night - is this part of the puzzle?

See the Bitch! poem comment of using a title as a final tag line and ultimately a young cop out for a poem that would probably work better as a lyric.

Nice work.

:0) I was worried about that poor crab, now it's a bite. Your images are fantasic as usual. 23.49

A nice needy love poem with zing!

I liked the 4th stanza. The rest does not live up to it.

Everyone I have ever met seems to think their life worth a novel. Never know though, yours may have that quality. I'm not fond of lengthy soul pourings. Sorry, but this one made me sleepy.

Self pity shows through well, but the angst is very bland.

Are you serious about this?

I like this poem in conjunction with "sitting on a cliff's edge". The fused energy feels similar somehow. Interesting. Like two people watching the same play from different angles.

Poetry is, at its best, a 'golden section' exposed. You're pretty close to winning a bronzed chambered nautilus for this one.

Nice to imagine. Thank you. The originality of the metaphors actually disrupts the flow slightly on the first couple reads, but after a couple reads I don't think the metaphors are anything but nice. I think what may be a small issue is their pronounciation and how their sounds fit into the poem: e.g. buried-alive hands is a very nice descriptor but a little front loaded to mediate the spreading transmogrification.

A ten, blue.

The end can be stronger! damn you.

Awesome title - now I have to read it; please hold... Hey that rocks. It's a sad and pitiful rocking, but with an air of challenges overcome.