I guess that beats the sole of your pink converse DARK ANGEL, lol, you prolific count of raising the user name bar and a four wheeled rhumba.

Don't listen to them Jeremi, I think your poetry is beautiful and amazing. You have a pure soul of crimson dragonsfyre. -10-

Rad, I love comics, and colons

Can't you see, I'm humbling my resolve to be the greatest poet at the lowest possible publishable level. I do enjoy Anastasia's work however. You're acting as if you expected something different than this for my first book? I would have guessed we already saw this coming. What, did you think any real publishers were going to pick me up?

Oh now, leave them be, they're hippies and publishers of the metaphysical, lol. I mean we can't all be pure stark visionaries like myself, and the other non traditionally repudiate authors of Sun Publishing. I mean you have to give it to me, I have a fecund sense of humor about these things. It could be worse, but not much. You should send them your 'outhouse' manuscript and see what they say? You know as a gag.

A vilanelle is difficult at best and near impossible to write without sounding forced due to the very strict rules required. I have tried this form and have had no positive results. You seem to have pulled it off quite well. In both form and content, a solid ten.

I suggest you peruse the other titles available from "The Sun Rising Poetry Press": 1. Anastasia Clark, "Grieving with Poetry" 2. Pam Kimmell (ed.), "Cosmic Brownies: Poems About Lessons Learned in Life" 3.Suzan L. Wiener, "Many Facets of Love: A Collection of Love Poems" 4. Er ... 5. That's it. I'm thinking of following the example of Jezza Brizza Hazza: I too may decide to turn my own life into a monument to the incredibly naff and the unutterably kitsch.

P.S Congratulations on your use of 'pure' and 'stark' imagery. Before writing Juno's Peacock, did you think to yourself: "Yes, I want all my imagery to be pure and stark"? Good Christ I hope so.

INTRANSIT: to get it, you have to know that in his youth richa often sat under an old twisted sugarbeet tree, trying - o! in vain! - to wrap his youthful brain around the problem of gayness in the world, which he - rightly - felt was key to an understanding of the universe on the quantum level. One day, while deep in meditation, he was struck on the noggin by a falling sugarbeet, in an eerie replication of Newton's encounter with the apple, made more eerie by the fact of a sugarbeet growing on a tree in the first place, which richa had always thought of as an odd figure of speech. Anyway, the blow had the effect of dislodging a jammed synapse and revealing the gayness problem in its beautiful entirety to him. He had to tell people - but how? Most people just can't wrap their brains around something like this. They just want stage-tricks, juggling and APPLES. They're not ready for this stuff.