Dovina
replying on One True Instant by Dovina
12 Oct 2004, 4:43 PM
I like it. -10- especailly "virtue of tininess."
I like this description and the "memories of those who once cared." Comma after reminiscing. Do pistons ever compress? Are coal holds really tinder cars? If so how do they stare?
A nice description of the crab, except for "too too solid flesh." I'm trying to see it as a metaphor. Wish I could.
Dovina.
A girl she made a
virtue of tinyness,
scampering while
we made breakfast,
until one day
her devious pa'
caught her in
the cookie jar.
He's listening. Go on.
Could you elaborate a little more? What's inconsistent in quality, and are you suggesting that maybe I should omit some lines and reword others?
God you're dull.
Try a spell checker. Some good thoughts here. Suicide is selfish and unkind!
Spoken like my father when he caught me in the cookie jar. It was because he loved cookies and felt them trickling away. No connection, I'm sure.
I don't know what was wrong with Sasha and DA.
Whatever it is, just keep on writing.. based on your feelings or not. You can't please everybody but obviously, this one does it for me. (",)
Speaking of wheelchair-bound cripples, Christopher Reeve's dead.
I like the ' patiently', but the rest of it doesn't do much for me. Sorry.
I am extremely disappointed in you, Dovina.
moving on up.
Too good for a pimple too inconsistent in quality for a poem, the idea of being feasted upon could be elaborated on sooner as the end is the strongest part but by then i lost interest.
Not bad - not good. 5
Lose the message in brackets - fuck it
the rest is refreshingly original so for that ___7
Orbits = thoughts = broken particles theres stuff dripping from this.
Line 2 reeks class.
Anyone who can successfully utilize rhyming insertion and person deserves a pat on the back. I hope people dont just look at this as a laugh as to me there seemed something more.
You've given these dead loco's the kiss of life here and mucho respect for not dragging on too long with it. Lines 6/7 are can be explored further i feel, the greatness of of something now rusting away as fields bloom before them.