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The sky drew closer, tucking itself in To my unframed and out-of focus sleepy-eye vision. A speckled grey curve, punctuated with wet-jelly commas, and hovering apostrophes which came; In guided-missile style attack To blot my blurry bag-scratched lenses. A white hen's speckled egg. <we might find a feather stuck, out there, beyond the bubble. With fine down we'd prove our parentage and count ourselves chickens> We're all floating in our whites. Bedraggled islands, melting, Black drips from books and eyes. Drops hooking-up to knee-high icy jeans, and seeping in, past every stitch, to chill our goosed-up skin. |
Okay I'm feeling better. I agree it is fantastic to read something worth commenting on. I find this piece amusing you use sort of a reverse minimalizism in it; I merely mean the that although you aren't describing much you touch is tantalizing not surprising this style brings a smile to my face as words are interlaced with events to the extent that those few moment extend into eternity. The first stanza seems like awakening in a dingy room and stepping out into the sun; the light hurts you sleep deprived eyes. I interpreted the bag scrathed lenses as bags under your eyes and the lense as the eye lenses rather than something foriegn. The next stanze about discovering our lineage struck me more as discovering what we are passionate about; for me, poetry. In any case find should be fine a small typo. The last stanza seems to compare reading to poetry to light a fire under our asses; inspiration. icy high blue jeans= capris? = feather not covering the shins and feet? all in all this is the most fun I've had reading anything on here in a while not that I'm very present these days, but a read like this leave the need to search for more pieces that have the same affect.| Posted on 2006-01-17 00:00:00 | by shaman | [ Reply to This ] | Hey, good to read something from you again. I see you are still standing in the abstract. One foot in the frying pan, one in the fire. Don't brake the yoke. | Dave | Posted on 2005-11-05 00:00:00 | by Sandburg | [ Reply to This ] | I think this does have a very spontanous feel. It sort of reminds me of the Beat poets and I like it a lot. My favourite images are the 'wet-jelly commas' and: | 'Drops hooking-up to knee-high icy jeans, and seeping in, past every stitch, to chill our goosed-up skin.' These bits are beyond beautiful, and I liked the egg stanza too. I was unsure about what you meant by 'bag-scratched' though and I think you use too many hyphenated clauses for such a short poem, I think you should experiment with making them compounds or seperate. Anyway, a great write, Speacenik. | Posted on 2005-11-05 00:00:00 | by Speacenik | [ Reply to This ] | Hmmm... interesting imagery you have but I feel that it's rather overdone and scrambled. Random might be the better keyword here. I'm not saying I don't like it, I do actually. I just think that you could tidy this piece up. It's very trippy though, that's for sure. | You have two overlong lines that stick out. I think you should break those lines up myself, but that's just my opinion. 'With find down' - do you mean 'with (fine) down'? I'm pretty sure you do. To me, that whole second stanza just doesn't do it... these < > parts - are these thoughts of yours that you wanted to highlight? And what for? The first line is just too forward I think. Then it dives in with those <> thingy's which is too abrupt. I would consider just chopping out that middle stanza altogether. You imply an egg with your speckled grey and floating whites imagery already. You also use the word 'speckled' twice. I dunno, totally up to you of course. Not meaning to be rude, but this is how I would revise it: The sky drew closer, tucking itself in To my unframed and out-of focus Sleepy-eye vision. A speckled grey curve, Punctuated with wet-jelly commas And hovering apostrophes Which came in guided-missile style attack To blot my blurry bag-scratched lenses. (perhaps another line here?) We're all floating in our whites; Bedraggled islands, melting, Black drips from books and eyes. Drops hooking-up to knee-high icy jeans, And seeping in, past every stitch, To chill our goosed-up skin. I wasn't sure of your random use of capitalization so I did every line. Yea. Hope this helps. Or at least you'll see it in a different way. Peace, ![]() Jase | Posted on 2005-11-05 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ] | Okay I will venture to saythat this strikes me as you observing the blurred environment of the sky with the wrong glasses on or something. Curiously the clouds look like jelly and maybe the sun look slike an egg. From there you gibve an internal picture of confusioon which expands out to the human predicament of wondering where we are ... the origins of humanitty, etc and it all has a slightlyabsurd twist because you tie it in to chickens. The last stanza seems to tell us that youare on a beach or somewhere, wading out in the ocean. If this is completely off the track you will have toforgive me because after all it is a pretty obtuse bit of writing. | I found this linethe most irksome Black drips from books and eyes. Maybe it is supposed to tie in with the jelly commas I feel that maybe you are too much a victim of abstraction, as sandburg points out. I've read it a few times and I always think tomyself "What the hell is she trying to say" . I mean I am not fully confident of my direction about the blurry sky and chicken/human origins theory -lol. The last stanza doesn't seem to help either because just when I think I might have a shred of what is going on suddenly I am transported to another environment. Maybe, if there is an environmental connection between the sky and the sea (ie they are part of the same visual environment that you are departing on to give us the chicken thing) you could give some hint that they are connected so we don't feel like we are flicking through a travel brochure or something. Anyway, hope this makes sense And good to see your typeface here again :) | Posted on 2005-11-05 00:00:00 | by kanu | [ Reply to This ] | |