Just one more pipe and I'll get out of the zero drop zone. I'll rate this one some time hobbing on the Eyeball Massacre Train. Axial, that is.

Maybe you'd better use the rose-fingered dawn and smell like a pinky.

Sure. Just center it and it looks like an inscription on a memorial. It's postcard poetry. The voice needs a little reverberation here. The words don't do the job.

Fuck. I keep
clicking on the wrong spot when I want to reply. Excuse me again Dovina. I guess my mouse has an appetite for the red X where the hammer of oblivion hits.

Your comment:
'executions aren't sexy'
My reply:
no they aren't. But this was not an execution but a coup de grace.

I think it's poetry. Like the way the spin-wringer resonates through the stanzas. Doctrines and doctrines.

I really start to like your stuff. It keeps me reading. I’ve read this, using the ‘distraction’ poem as a kind of key – how to concentrate time, guess I’m sounding a bit pretentious here but who cares.

Strangest limerick I've ever read. Pretty dull poem, though.

I think this is a very bad poem. It doesn’t hit hard, it hits the spot where the blow’s already been taken. And if it did not affect you, eleven years ago, this poem certainly will not change that. And how is it ‘emotionally involved’? It deals with the Rwanda genocide in a kind of moralistic tone of voice, the ‘we all are guilty’thing, and then, in the commentaries, it’s about sleep and dead and heap, blahblahblah, very abstract, technical, not personal at all – it should have known at least ONE name of a Tutsi family for it to become more then what it is now: simply a flat piece of socalled ‘involved’ poetry. So what’s your next piece about? Bosnia? Darfur? The famine in North Korea? The Cultural Revolution? Iraq, maybe? Kyoto?

I like the flow of it. There is bit of Maxi Jazz in it.
This is my curse.

'these feelings have turned around
when you're not around'

I should've stopped reading right there.

Don't care much for those animals. Who does? But the Lost Socks - now there's one of life's great mysteries. Two go in - one comes out.

Nice. I should skip the amazement: if it's there, the poem should prove it. Not your telling me.

I don't think this is a poem. It's more like a sermon.
A poem has at least two faces. A sermon only one.

better go easy on the tears.

hmmm - think the imagery's not great. Bearded lady, dwarves, strong man, haunted house, so what else is new? Intentionally maybe, but it didn't make me sit up. Nor did all the clungcdungcluccing - bit of a cheap trick. For a dark and gloomy look at the carnival, listen to Nick Cave's 'The Carny'.

'As the bones of the artist molder on, forgotten.'

well, there is this german physician, Gunther von Hagens, who puts these 'plastinated' bodies on display.
His expositions have caused quite a stirr; but is it art? Would it be art when these bodies were the bodies of artists?
Anyway, you can take a look at his works at http://www.bodyworlds.com/

I think the first part is nice. The second could be much shorter. The moment you start to talk about the 'you', everything's allready in the open. There is going to be a cosmic distance between the two. So keep it short. You might even expand in the first part, up to a ridiculous magnitude, bombarding the reader with facts and numbers. Getting more and more desparate. Get into an astronomical frenzy. Speed up the pace. And then shrink it to the size of a walk with the dog, compared to the distance between you and your goodbye lover. If you gotta be corny, you better go all the way.

I'm in the dark. It seems a very private thing to me, with strange imagery.

I agree with jessicazee about the 'where one can find' line. You might even leave out the humming.
The bitch will sound even more edible.

Great title.