I say this only because poemranker has corrupted me: "Sounds gay."

Nice, to put on his pillow at each season's beginning.

So few poems end well. Life should end well, why not poems. Are all poets working against what should be?

Good. I'd shorten the first verse to give it more power: cast upon the canvas, sketched within my past,
she waits for me. Or somesuch.

How many birds settle on a human's tree? Are they dumb?

Good flow and rhythm. "sins" seems inacurate. "The future calls" seems a bad shift.

Whimsical and carrying less content than poetic effort.

I believe now that you really love me. The way you would a fluffy little dog. It's touching, really. And this morning my hair looks that way. I'll release the knee from your neck now, knowing you'll not relent.

I wish you had not deleted some fifty comments.

A device linking the front wings to the back, hardly seems like a flame or disease. Is she enjoying this?

I see no point in shrouding a thing like this. In allowing several ingterpretations, you do what I do, and incur the consternation of me. maybe you meant something particuar, maybe nebulosity. It seems to me that a poem should at least purport something, not paint lines pointing in all directions. It's ok if readers find other meanings, but some meaning should stand our like a basket of fruit or a tree.

I like the cousinship of man and devil, the take on the swine and Legion, mosquitoe/bug, Legion/prophet, and the waiting cross. The () seem distracting and could be done without I think.

Good, except for the mundane last line.

A cute dog-lovers poem. I'd like to see it with a punch line near the end.

If she married you in 82, why are you, as man, a widow in 83? Lesbians, or do you mean widower?

An antiquated feel to it, in rhythm and rhyme. I like to think poetry has more potential than titilation of the ear, that it can do that while stimulating thought.

A good take on leaves and cycles. Line 2 seems to have an "and" and a "the" too many. Track marks in bark might better be under cambium - just a suggestion.

Maybe the ficticious Herbert Cyan is more real than Marvyn Hyde. The parallel poem is not up so I can't say, only that what I used to see as the ficticious Dovina is becoming more real every day. She'll pop into life some day and stab a knife into _____.

The first verse is great except for "gilded."

It seems strange that they come without avarice (notice the spelling) since most birds at feeders I have seen compete or follow a pecking order.

A 36-minute dream. Were you watching the clock?