on I dreamt a white Black widow by INTRANSIT
8 Oct 2004, 10:54 AM
http://www.reuters.com/newsArticle.jhtml?type=oddlyEnoughNews&;storyID=6452056&src=rss/oddlyEnoughNews§ion=news
on some deleted poem
2 Jul 2004, 5:49 PM
so, you didn't boil and eat him?
on today the world is beauty by nentwined
2 Jul 2004, 5:44 PM
too many times the world is this way.
but as a poem, it is telling more than showinhg. and i am a dick, maybe. but that is that. a weak, insignificant teary-eyed one, whose dreams are so different than the waking world.
but as a poem, it is telling more than showinhg. and i am a dick, maybe. but that is that. a weak, insignificant teary-eyed one, whose dreams are so different than the waking world.
on some deleted poem
6 May 2004, 7:55 AM
pity the lilies can't be made to last, as well.
but prhaps that's why they are sweetest of all.
but prhaps that's why they are sweetest of all.
on The Influence of Anxiety by Nicholas Jones
7 May 2004, 2:27 PM
on selfhood, through extrospection by nentwined
10 May 2004, 8:00 PM
nice. now it all comes clear.
alles ist klar.
alles ist klar.
on mutiny by Bill Z Bub
8 Jun 2004, 6:43 PM
welcome back, bub.
on some deleted poem
7 Jun 2004, 12:36 AM
what have you changed, in this version?
on She washed over me by nentwined
19 Sep 2004, 7:51 PM
oy. ready? set? crit:
She washed over me like water,
>>kâwashed over me doesnât need to be qualified with âlike waterââ>>economize your words for greater effect.
and I knew love
like love had never known;
>>abstract
she wriggled into every crevice, licked
me clean, then left--
>>okay, now weâre getting somewhere. Was it a salty tongue, like
>>sharkskin, so smooth on the approach yet tearing and scraping
>>like sandpaper as it pulled away?
but she came back, caressed me down, deeper still.
>>and what did that feel like?
She went and came like some sick little game
>>yep. Yep. Very clear to me.
and I was stone, alone and uncertain;
>> I have a hard time with stones being uncertain. They donât roll.
>>They know where theyâll wake up tomorrow. They know what they are
>>going to wear tonight. And they definitely know if they look fat
>>in that.
her visitations slowly eroded my hesitation
and I became used to her comings and goings.
>>tides? To repeat the water/comparison to elementals metaphor?
We settled into a long routine, then: love when she was there
>>delete âthenâ
and happy rememberings on her trips away.
>>both of you settled into this
>both of you with the happy rememberings?
Slowly, though, she found my deep imperfections
and seeping into them she'd leave a piece of herself behind
to whip cold and hot.
>>finding and seeping cold maybe be better verbs? More insidious?
She'd tell herself tales
when she returned
and slowly I cracked, I crumbled,
>>what sort of tales? About what? Why? And how did it come
>>about that you heard them?
and she'd whisk those pieces away, rounding them to pebbles, then sand
while I remained
less
and less.
>>again, delete âthenâ
The strength of her love never waned
and in time it became too much
for what was left of me,
one raw stone,
and I let go.
>>you never showed us that she loved you, only that she tortures you
I entered her to and fro,
another pawn of her whimsy
to slowly be rounded to nothing
through pleasure.
>>apart from âpawnâ being overused, the rounding to nothing slowly through pleasure is quite good.
She washed over me like water,
>>kâwashed over me doesnât need to be qualified with âlike waterââ>>economize your words for greater effect.
and I knew love
like love had never known;
>>abstract
she wriggled into every crevice, licked
me clean, then left--
>>okay, now weâre getting somewhere. Was it a salty tongue, like
>>sharkskin, so smooth on the approach yet tearing and scraping
>>like sandpaper as it pulled away?
but she came back, caressed me down, deeper still.
>>and what did that feel like?
She went and came like some sick little game
>>yep. Yep. Very clear to me.
and I was stone, alone and uncertain;
>> I have a hard time with stones being uncertain. They donât roll.
>>They know where theyâll wake up tomorrow. They know what they are
>>going to wear tonight. And they definitely know if they look fat
>>in that.
her visitations slowly eroded my hesitation
and I became used to her comings and goings.
>>tides? To repeat the water/comparison to elementals metaphor?
We settled into a long routine, then: love when she was there
>>delete âthenâ
and happy rememberings on her trips away.
>>both of you settled into this
>both of you with the happy rememberings?
Slowly, though, she found my deep imperfections
and seeping into them she'd leave a piece of herself behind
to whip cold and hot.
>>finding and seeping cold maybe be better verbs? More insidious?
She'd tell herself tales
when she returned
and slowly I cracked, I crumbled,
>>what sort of tales? About what? Why? And how did it come
>>about that you heard them?
and she'd whisk those pieces away, rounding them to pebbles, then sand
while I remained
less
and less.
>>again, delete âthenâ
The strength of her love never waned
and in time it became too much
for what was left of me,
one raw stone,
and I let go.
>>you never showed us that she loved you, only that she tortures you
I entered her to and fro,
another pawn of her whimsy
to slowly be rounded to nothing
through pleasure.
>>apart from âpawnâ being overused, the rounding to nothing slowly through pleasure is quite good.
on some deleted poem
27 Apr 2005, 6:33 AM
i find myuself agreeing with dovina--the third stanza is where the writing kicks in strong; the first two are a set-upthat i don't really think you need as you show it in the other two.
on Lost key for a hall-closet by zodiac
27 Apr 2005, 6:29 AM
the first 4 stanzas reeled me in, vivid world. you lost me when you started with her thinking about the lingere--what does that have to do with the lost key? okay, i say, maybe he'll pull it together later, and i read on. and then you offer me the last chance--the scallops on the stove and the half-naked woman--and still, no key. okay, i get it it, but the integrration needs work.
her sudden realization that 'it isn't here'--why is that an 'of course' reaction?
her sudden realization that 'it isn't here'--why is that an 'of course' reaction?
on some deleted poem
14 Jun 2005, 1:22 PM
basically, i agree with what DoubleU said. I thin, for what it is, it goes along pretty well, but you build us up and then deflate us with an ending that is much weaker than the rest of the piece.
on some deleted poem
14 Jun 2005, 1:28 PM
very nice set-up and well executed.
on Mr. Campbell's final journey by jroday
14 Jun 2005, 1:32 PM
i wonder at the choice of name, especially since the 'realitiies rage' opening conjures up Joseph Campbell and his 'Power of Myth'
on some deleted poem
8 Jul 2005, 6:17 AM
Cad,
this passage is strikung:
Framed in televisions
this masterpiece comes alive
as a soup of limbs
stirred by microphones.
this piece definitely expresses the sentiment of the meoment.
this passage is strikung:
Framed in televisions
this masterpiece comes alive
as a soup of limbs
stirred by microphones.
this piece definitely expresses the sentiment of the meoment.
on Spontaneous Combustion by wilco
8 Jul 2005, 6:55 AM
this has a nice bounce to it until the last stanza. why did you break it?