--Elite Writer Alias: blackbird Name: matthew may ASL: 31/male/reykjavik iceland Website:[ Website ] Blog:[ Blog ] Days Away: 36 Life Story: occultist [ Ignore User ]
Favorites: 14 Forum Posts: 1 Shoutbox Posts: 0 RP Posts: 0 Signup Date: 4003 D 10.97 Years 1.1 Decades 133.43 Months 571.86 Weeks 4.003000e+8 Heart Beats -There you go eggman Quote: the innri ljï¿½s af the ï¿½ruma fullkominn hugur
your poems are just lovely. I'm sorry you find it hard to write too much all the time, but I know what you mean. It can be difficult finding space to do it when you have to work and see people and clean your house, ugh, there's always something needs doing.
'i've followed a dead bird
through the crevice
of an eyelash,'
this opening is just gorgeous, really stunning and surprising, unusual and dark
and then things kind of warm up, you bring the idea of life into your poem, so there's this darkness which lingers, but the bleakness of the opening is softened, somewhat,
and then the kissing, the snakes- it makes me think of tongues, poison tongues, poison kisses- and your transition into this really hits the nail on the head
and the idea of death sits so nicely with the idea of savage kisses, and it's still unusual, striking.
The organic thoughts- you're playing around with this death versus life idea, but you approach it with such vivid and original imagery, so it lingers in the mind, it's really well done,
and it speaks of this savage passion, again, but of naturalness, organic, a true and natural love and passion, of fervour, but at its most base, intuitive, animalistic level, pure id;
and then the resistance to this passion- the lines on your face, which speaks to me of the wisdom of age, which inevitably leads to a certain cynincism, lonesome newness, only steam-how this juxtaposes with the life/death, passion/cynicism, it's lovely and charming both, and I feel like you're disintegrating under the weight of love and life,
but you want the fervour- your last stanza, you want to disintegrate, to dissolve in the arms of this lover, you crave it, and is it denied to you? because of the lines in your face? the sweet self abandon into love and lust and passion which is the passion of first loves, of teenagers, and it feels like maybe this kind of abandonment of the self into reckless, consuming passion-- it's lost to you, but you want it. And your copper fingers, where you want flesh, flesh dissolving.
'i want the ether
to pour lovely through my pores'
this is a gorgeous line, and really, this poem is chock-a-block full of them, such absract imagery, it really does linger like smoke in the air;
and your last line 'I need coldness to remind me of the heat', how this links with your copper fingers, your lovely pouring through pores, but it all started with a dead bird,
and this is a lovely poem, so vivid.
I'm sorry I've posted this comment on your page- you've been gone longer than the five day limit, but I wanted to leave my thoughts on this 'copper fingers' before I lost them, so, so yeah.