on Knights of progress 'alter boy shamed' by Bachus
8 Oct 2002, 10:52 PM
your poems are often so convoluted that i can't decide if they are genius or chum. they make the ganglia twitch, itch, bitch. ditch me. lick me.
on Essential Love by unknown
8 Oct 2002, 10:46 PM
when i read this, i feel putrid all over. what treacly tripe.
on Punishment and Punishment again by vulcan
26 Sep 2002, 12:10 AM
Why do you punctuate like that?
on The Drive In (Drugs broke her, she broke me) by <{Baba^Yaga}>
26 Sep 2002, 12:08 AM
This poem makes me want to go out and buy a 40-Oz. Make that 2. Works every time.
on Morning conflict by INTRANSIT
26 Sep 2002, 12:04 AM
20 oz. ought to do it nicely. Nicely done.
on calendared by cobalt
26 Sep 2002, 12:03 AM
Good sounds here, but meter is uneven.
on Since The Fall by harrytuttle
26 Sep 2002, 12:01 AM
My goldfish grew an inch.
on myself by decadentlaurel
25 Sep 2002, 11:54 PM
Unfinished sentences; missing punctuation and capitalisation; the bubonic plague?
on glory bar realities by royalflesh
25 Sep 2002, 11:52 PM
Prankster or no, he's a fascinating protagonist, in this story too. When do the others get to speak?
on Noblesse Oblige by Christof
25 Sep 2002, 11:50 PM
Silly bird. Smart poem.
on The Nights Draw In by Nicholas Jones
25 Sep 2002, 11:48 PM
Great. Really great evocation.
replying on The Writing Life #2 by poetandknowit
25 Sep 2002, 11:38 PM
You're going to send him that $30 anyways, aren't you?
replying on The Writing Life #2 by poetandknowit
25 Sep 2002, 11:28 PM
I think she's calling you fat!
on WHY by adrenalize
25 Sep 2002, 10:53 PM
Because you'd rather cling to something imagined than move on and make a future? Really people. Is this the bleeding hearts club?
on making progress (a piece of it) by Limness
25 Sep 2002, 10:51 PM
So what? Get over it.
on O Man Away From Me by Limness
25 Sep 2002, 10:50 PM
Indeed. But flesh makes a warmer one, as we both must know.
taller girl whirled her skirt
in segregated circles
drawing boundaries all around her with it,
while her hair lashed out in little black laraits
and, her long arms aloft,
that skirt floated up towards them,
wooshing out and drawing her space unusually wide,
as she was unusually tall
as if she could eclipse herself in it
one drum and one guitar
and then another
and under
her circling hair, her face comes,
cover comes under that silken black
and once more coming ?round
with her hair flying up
I saw furled brows and closed, black-lined eyes
and a mouth turned down in studied oblivion;
but another coming around
had an opened eye and red upturned lips
under the flying glimpse of hair,
so that I saw that she saw
that I saw her,
and then she whirled away
into the center
until I saw only the fringe of her hair
flying over the heads of all the others,
and my moment, crushed
under her stamping boots