seems to have a good flow, but the "black and white" dichotomy and word choice doesn't work for me.

The stanza about September is wonderful.

a rather poignant display of laughable matters.

manicly paused? and scribed? gave you as a gift of love? (the... what?) hmm.

well done, overall; I really like the form you used here. perhaps too blatant throughouht, and "time does not move forward in this place" made me think you had killed her, while later lines disabused this notion. thoughts.

I liked "I hold solace in my hand", and though perhaps you could simply do something mure subtle with the ball dropping. waiting for the out bugs me more than the ball, I think. Though it's hard to say. And I don't really "get" stowing solace. an 8, here.

"to" hard? perhaps. "of which you depend"? ew. "one" and "come" should be split by a comma. the flow is rocky. to a point? I see the one point, but the poem's got bits sticking out every which way, detracting (I think) from the spearhead. but a cute idea.

cute, though the first and third lines seem too connected.

"the case of the naive gazer *is* aligning the stars*? or... the case? no, I just don't get that. why a comma after hidden? and a semicolon after swap? and a comma after meant? I think I like this poem but for its structure. or the punctuation. if you're going to have so much, why not actually match it up the way it's "supposed" to go? (or if you're tossing it in randomly, is that meant to be a comment on the stars? everything else seems deliberate...?) 6 as is.

I'll give you a zero if you really want. I guess you want comments on your 'serious' poems rathey than this one right?

9. nicely done. [Or I'm in a good mood this morning, but I don't quite think it's that]

Nice fable about the "first subsidiary ones" (care to shed an original language translation that means more) I liked the line "La force de notre force ne peut pas dépasser la force de notre faiblesse" especially. Reminds me of the novel, "Ishmael".

Suggestion: DON'T Love with your all. Save some for yourself. It won't affect the intensity level at all. It's another dimension behind the levels. go.

Joe-joe, Joe-joe, you just can't write, Joe-joe, Joe-joe, try as you might. Joe-joe, Joe-joe, you numb Jesus freak, Joe-joe, Joe-joe, you poemranker geek. J-j, J-j, you make no sense, J-j, J-j, you are so dense.

A corpse, a coyote, and the craftiest rhyming of the word 'dead' I've heard since that night I bought an undead poet a drink. Maaaaaaaaarvelous, my dear. I'd give it a sixty-nine out of ten if I could, but instead I'll just go as high as I can and throw in my pants.

Bravo religius delirium at its best I for twoo minutos closed my eyes and salivated at the tought of such union,,,i need another mia culpa and ten lashes for my own desires, Ive slipped into a very aroused state dios mio...MACHETE

Ine lit a candle for those dark moments...youve touched a sad little corner in my heart. The Third Isis

hmmyes. 9.

Tekken isn't my bag, but if it were Guilty Gear, I'd be Faust.

You are sullying Settle's good name and violating the Poemeranker Club Code of Conduct. Answer these questions: a) Is Settle actually dead, to the best of your knowledge? b) If so, why would his mother have called you, someone she barely if at all knows, to tell you he was dead on the very same day it happened? c) Why would Settle have chosen such a melodramatic and unreliable suicide method as hanging? d) What art school in Rhode Island did he go to? e) You mentioned before that you 'had him over for dinner'. He lives in Rhode Island. You live in California. You don't just pop over a continent for dinner. What actually happened? f) Why do you have what seems to be one of his school essays, and why are you posting it here?