I am not certain whether 'Kathumping' is meant to be onomatopoeic - Ka-THUMping, or if it should be pronounced Kat-Humping; in which case, who is Kat and what has she done that requires ice?

Is this a poeme or just rhythmic prose? I'm not sure that writing it with "poetic" line breaks actually contributes anything to it.

'Skyscrappers' is a typo, although it gives me marvellous visions of dive-bombing pigeons in Trafalgar Square.

Yesterday I officially became a Gradu-ate and the ceremony was splendid apart from a trinity of babies who managed to set up some sort of crying rota well in advance. As soon as one of the little fuckers had bawled its tonsils out another would pick up the chant with added smugness. So I must disagree that any baby speaks merely for the joy of speaking; it is more clearly for the joy of interrupting a solemn and dignified event.

Fun, I'm not sure if you have any stylistic reasons for the plethora of capitals though.

Also, your love might be deep but I don't see how that automatically makes it like drowning in the Nile. It might be like the Nile - especially if your love has crocodiles in - but it doesn't make it akin to drowning.

No! We are not gods! Did you not listen to -=Muslim=-? In order to smite, one must be able to summon up the mighty power of ~*RAMADAN*~, otherwise it is not smiting, merely spanking with panache.

Mostly marvellous, the rhythm reminds me of the clicking of a train except for the middle of stanza two where it becomes a bit disjointed. I didn't see any need for the backstage pass, but the rest is grand.

There is no such thing as the 'glass ceiling' in business. It is simply that men are inherently better at kissing bums. Imagine the following thought experiment, exclusively stolen from Scott Adams: a man and a woman of equal qualifications are both vying for the same promotion. They are put in an aircraft hanger with three hundred pasty white executive arses bent over. Whoever kisses them all first will get the promotion. The only possible outcome is that while the woman puts together a task force to determine relative worth of such a method and consider less demeaning alternatives, the man is halfway down the line, puckering up to every cheek and slipping his business card in every crack.

To make it topical, I suggest the following alternative finale: "for gifts like these they call him drnick".

This moves like one of my favourite Dylan Thomas poems ('I dreamed my genesis'), and it's beautifully lyrical. Unlike DT it's not at all dramatic, and at first it felt a little empty content-wise - but as I read it gets more effective; stunning but bleak. You're creating some wonderful poems right now -9-

Brilliant

Why have you removed all your poemes?

In poetic terms it could be improved. In real life terms I do hope it's not from personal experience.

I have read most, maybe not all, but most of your haiku/senryu collection, and this is the best. It might scan better if the second line was rearranged to 'across scratched and warped records' - still retains the effect you're aiming for (I think). 'Sticking' might be better for being replaced; 'catching' or 'snagging' perhaps carry more appropriate connotations and sounds.

Nice idea, but it really needs to either be fully punctuated, or not punctuated at all (and let the word and line arrangement do the work). As it is, we have: Little talons that I feel perch on my shoulder when I look on the apple and the hair and I listen to the cough and the chatter. Little talons that I feel even in the absence of such things I could not imagine you not perched on my shoulder you could be mere apparition and still I could not get rid of you, I could only lose you. Little talons.

The second stanza is perfect (perhaps change the position of 'sacred' as our trucker suggests). "He's teaching school now" wants editing, in my opinion and the last line is very abrupt. Maybe that's what you were after though?

My very first thought upon reading the opening line was that this is crying out to be moulded into a form - sonnet was the one that sprang to mind. It would work equally well as a monologue, although I think it'd have to be a narration to a film clip or something similar. Otherwise you risk creating a large (and quite impressive) description with not much to hook the reader. Forming it would create a rhythm, a movement to capture the reader.

Reverse the roles! Condense the poem and make it the title, and expand on the title to use the sloth as physical metaphor. It doesn't have to be wrapped up in a Japanese form, although it's more punchy in this form.

I haven't read a great deal of sestinas, usually they bore me. This is different; you direct attention away from the ends of lines, which makes all the difference. There are one or two places which seem forced and should be ironed out for the sake of perfection ("and my haunt" is the obvious one). I absolutely loved "my fingers jumped from pools of fluorescent water to cats haunting crusty archways". Almost perfect :-)

Funny thing is that I didn't read any cynicism in this, except for where the title is concerned.

Ace.