the night scented
my head spun
“someone has left
... someone’s laughter...
was he naked?”
you hurry away,
the sidewalk twists
a roguish boy
“did you drop this?”
18 Feb 09
Rated 10 (5.4) by 3 users.
Active (3): 10
Inactive (13): 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10
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who can forget san francisco,as they call it, do not want to piss them off,1 thru 9 was wonderful, but you lost my numb brain on lines 10 thru 17, the sidewalks are a maze,and the boy was fun. by the way you must be from southern california...
I like the night scented with coffee, don't know what nut-lavendar is. I am confused about the head spinning in wonder, unless you've never been in a big city before. I understand nothing from line 10-17.
I'm confused about who is talking here. You start with 'your visit, ' line 3. My head spun, line 8, you hurry away, line 18 and then back to stops me, line 22.
That's very confusing, is that intentional? I can't find San Francisco in this, can't find who the speaker is or who they are speaking to. Can you clear that up, please?
you are a poet if you write something which you think is a poem. if you don't have a poem, then you're not a poet.
so true. i give this poem, you read these words.
this is rated one by one user, and i think that sums it. it's just not good enough to explicate --- except that maybe it's too modern. like, i think it's the first modern poem i ever wrote, and, if you read this out-loud, you'll find the dance movements in it. if you only dance to CD's it won't work though. and, if you don't think metaphorically, like a poet, you'll never find me in this, cause it's not at all about frisco. why the title then? cause it's flying over it at 90,000 feet and needed to call home.
Mike, can you just be clear? I didn't give it a 1 or any rating, I asked you some real questions, I don't think it's just that it's 'too modern,' whatever that is supposed to mean.
I want to know how it works, how it's to be read.
isabelle, this is a dance poem about dancing with words. when you write your poetry, there's a cadence and rhythm in them that seems intentional. this is simply a new dance, and you have to learn the moves. i think you're just waiting for the music to start, but you've either got that in you already, or not. it's a poem.
It is a dance, theres a movement in the 1st stanza, then a retort in the stanza L12 - 17. Then 18 - 23 is like a steady walk. Thats how i read it anyhow.
syro, do you feel the twist in the rhyme and rhythm in 18-23? cause it's supposed to throw the reader, physically -- as in, my mind's horizon -- off center.
The crux of the twist being at the end of L20, start of 21? Theres a twist there, but to me they cancel eachother out - you do get the initial jarring of the weight going on one side of the scales, but the response quickly puts a weight on the other side.
Hmm, yea, i think i know what im saying..
probably you do! but, if you read this outloud, what happens to your phrasing during the reading? is it dead-on monotonous, like simic, or is there some wiggling?
Of all the poems you have posted now this is the best of them. I don't know if I am just not into the style you use, but I feel that you ca go further somehow. You're a good crit, but your writing still seems hemmed in. Maybe it's just a generational thing? I'm still trying to get it.
it might be an age thing, where i'm working backwards -- walking away from something which which was, well, something else. i'm really glad you like this. i think it's the first modern poem i've written, and i don't know of another poem like it, really -- another one involving this kind of motion. i want to invent atomic binding as poetry, and maybe it takes the age of microscope and focus to see the details and slide down the transitions. i don't want to just sing about what i already know can't be sung about except as ironic complaint or a stepping out of words. i want to dance the words, now, and show that they actually were never lost, and that they always did say exactly what we wanted them to say -- that it was just us, as kids, that couldn't back away enough to see their results. like, how many good-meaning people did you burn in your life, trying to be perfect when it was really that you were trying to be perfect for them:
did anyone remember your visit?
who remembers your visit?
; &nbs p; The night scented with coffee,
; &nbs p; &nb sp; vivid with nut-lavender - my head spun in wonder.
"Has someone left his crown?"
"and his gloves! Dove-skin!"
"Was he naked?"
; &nbs p; &nb sp; You hurry away,
; &nbs p; &nb sp; the sidewalk twists inward;
A roguish boy stops me with a smile:
"Did you drop this?"
Now it's a dance. The way it's written, you didn't provide the dance steps or music, they are still in your head. The reader is not here to be musician or choreographer and the Emperor has no clothes on here.
You didn't answer my simple, clear questions, Mike.
has it not dawned on you that this is actually a 'street song', like in 'mother goose'? that it's a hermetic form, heuristically -- it leads only into itself, and complete as a wording? i'm always surprised to find how little people really know and like poetry here -- have a love of poetry and a feel for it, even in its simplest forms. it's simply a little verse to read as verse. it's not supposed to be the kind of data-dump confessional that passes for poetry now, or even the ironic crap, too afraid to be seen as having feelings, so the author plays some feeling tokens and hides behind cocktail sophistications. you're always slamming me for being so inhuman and un-sympa, and here you are trying to turn mary had a little lamb into 'stopping through the woods...'. it's not -- it's not lamer frost, it's just a little song frost might have liked to sing to himself when he was writing one of his 'poems'.
Did it occur to you that it isn't written or formatted well enough to be a Mother Goose poem? Even those are formatted well and don't change from me to you mid-phrase.
I'm giving you critique honestly and all you want to do is defend your poem, with all its limitations. It might be crystal clear to you but if it's not clear to the reader, that means that it isn't clear enough.
you don't know anything about how poems are written and formatted at all. you know how you like your writing to look, and you drop out of your daily slog of checking legal-oid language products and can't let go and just read for fun, read for the dance of words. just give it up and read this like a poem. it's a poem. it looks like a poem. if you can't deal with how it looks, go read simic, the mindless twit who panders to children because 'it's all been done before'. this one, my poem, hasn't been done before and i think you're rude to ignore what the author wants from you in order to read it as a poem.
wow, what a pompous load of crap, to tell me I don't know anything about how poetry is formatted. I'm not a student in Poetry 101! What you want from me is to pander to YOUR poem! You go on and on about how this is a critique site but when I give you a real critique, you don't want it.
I can't read it the way you want it because it DOESN'T MAKE SENSE! Since when does the reader have to make allowances for the words? This isn't Poetry Pap, it's Poetry CRITICAL. That doesn't mean you're the only one who gets to critique.
Since you apparently only want readers who like your work, I'm done trying to do my job here, which is honesty.
no, it's not pompous, but your offended reply sounds ridiculous. you're not even going to talk about poetry, are you? you're going to do a mong and mor and scream about how offensive it is that i'd ask you directly if you know how to read a poem.
have you ever read a history of poetry, or even a history of the english language? seen how these street songs get turned into text at all? this is written exactly as it's supposed to be written. you either have a feel for poetry as language, or you have a feel for text as 'story'. you're into story, and you want a little simple story out of this. why? why bother the site with your demands that everything you read here has to read like a contract document with sex or sad or happy sauce on it?
'smell' is the most impressionable sense, the sense that deeply seeds our worst 'n best of memories -- this pome 'smells' in a way that subtly entices us with coffee 'n night 'n nut-lavender in a panoply of desire 'n head spinning swooning -- here you captivate the reader to the last strophe which leaves us in 'longing' after the rush of earth toned smells -- the first line to the qwestion mark leaves us in an empty space wanting to be filled -- you fill it with powerful suggestions which takes us into our own inventions of sensual rememberings triggered by these earthy smells directing us to your 'lost 'n longing in frisco' moments -- the last strophe so understates as to be a surprise in our minds where you've coloured our memories with your pome -- again I like the simplicity 'n tone of this while the conceit is recreated in our own image
No, Mike, it's you who are hollering about my questions, as if you resent being asked 'what is this poem?" That's what you say you want us to do, ask about the poem, the poet, where this came from. But when I did exactly that, asked pertinent questions, you did not want it, you wanted to be able to say, "See it dance!" There is no dance for the reader, unless it's watching you dance around what you really want.
I open every poem with the expectation of enjoying the experience. It is a good thing when someone asks questions instead of saying, "this is crap." You should be honored to be read, not angry that a poet was interested enough in you and your poem to spend some time trying to get to the place where they could appreciate it.
you're genre-driven, and your genre is romance-drama. you expect the poem to give you that and look like that. you don't like other forms. you don't want poetry to be hard to read.
people read and like this poem very much, isabelle. you've not even got beyond 'this looks funny', like you were a six year old. i can't respond to 'make it look right for me', because it's not written for you. live with that... either learn the language of 'in frisco', as though it were a foreign language, or move on to another poem. none of the poetry posted in poetry critical is written in 'english'.
thanks, alc. 'smell', that was actually a trick i was aware of and wanted to explore in writing, and i threw those notions in because i knew they'd work on the reader. this one is so minimalist that the images need a little coaxing to come to life. but, really, it's about how words carry us down the river of wording -- how we follow the words. this is actually what i was trying to do with 'soda springs', which is a river-rafting down words, but this one is more involving, more a poem, maybe.
Is this a poem? I get the idea that I WANT it to be a poem, but then it turns into a collection of oddly arranged lines that don't really say much. I'll go with the current opinion that seems to say that from 17-the end it loses me. Mike, are you having an issue with dishing it out and not being able to take it back? It appears to me to be that way.
is this not genre driven? it reads like a generic submission of words meant to mean something other than what they are on the page. poetry. sort of.
Let me try and write a load of crap about this poem.
smell' is the most impressionable sense, the sense that deeply seeds our worst 'n best of memories -- this pome 'smells' in a way that subtly entices us with coffee 'n night 'n nut-lavender in a panoply of desire 'n head spinning swooning -- here you captivate the reader to the last strophe which leaves us in 'longing' after the rush of earth toned smells -- the first line to the qwestion mark leaves us in an empty space wanting to be filled -- you fill it with powerful suggestions which takes us into our own inventions of sensual rememberings triggered by these earthy smells directing us to your 'lost 'n longing in frisco' moments -- the last strophe so understates as to be a surprise in our minds where you've coloured our memories with your pome -- again I like the simplicity 'n tone of this while the conceit is recreated in our own image.
There, that should be enough bullcrap to make gecko reply with equal amounts of bullcrap.
starr -- it starts with finding the poem. i always find the poem in whatever i'm offered as poetry. my reading of your poems should show you that -- i'm the one who reads them carefully and on as many levels as you put in them. you're not seeing this yet, as a wording thing, and that's what you're after: something familiar. this poem is read and liked by people in the poetry world of many kinds of poets. just read it out-loud and find the steps in it. it's what you're doing with eno, after all, and this is modern poetry. you know what people say about brian eno's music when they can't understand it.
unknown, you're reading this like it was supposed to be a story. it's not. don't pretend to write about poetry if you don't like poetry.
this is shit. it needs to be deleted.
this rates as a 1
why is it 'shit'?
I DO FEEL something, Mike. There's a nice night scene painted here from 4-12. There's also te same possibility from 18-23. I'm not so sure that it's very clear though the way it's written. It's all a little vague though. Eno is the master of these night scenes, indeed.
The "vivid with" in L6 seems to take away from the sonic magic here, Mike. I'd go from "with coffee" in L5 to "and nut-lavender;" in L7. Although the v's make nice sounds in "vivid" and "lavender," the line as you have it seems to be too much of a mouthful.
starr, it's about as much about a 'night scene' as it is about 'frisco'. it's not about frisco, not about me being there, not about street boys. it's about making a word-object which works in your poetry-space. eno's music -- it's not about night-scenes, it's about taming sound in the way that eno wants it to behave. i know these guys from back when, wrote music with them. this piece is poetry for poets.
IT ISN'T WORKING, WHAT DON'T YUO UNDERSTAND?
it's not working for you, but you're so dulled that you think using caps is making your point. you're like some english imperialist shouting english at an italian so he'll understand what you're asking for.
no, mister sir, this is not the forum.
We'll just leave it at that, Mike. I'll read this poem over Ikebukuro (Shutov Assembly #9) and see how the words/sounds affect me then. :-)
thanks, starr. i think it will grow on you. let me know.
I think it will too, Mike. I gave it an "8" just so you know it wasn't me trashing it with all the 1's. :-)
dude starr, i'd never think you'd do that, though i had to write a coda in a forum thing, to clarify that the writer 's' i was writing about wasn't you, cause i really didn't want to think that i was mean. problems of writing prose and problems of poetry sites.
Well, I'm watching this but I didn't give you 1's, either, I'm still waiting for answers to my questions instead of an easy, "You didn't read it right."
I'm a little disappointed, after I tried hard to be clear.
Mike, you want to tear down everyone else's poetry, but as soon as someone offers an honest critique to you, you're on the defensive. Like starr said -- do you have a problem with dishing it out but not being able to take it back?
unknown, if i'm writing in a way you can't understand, learn to understand it. i understand all the poems i comment on, or i don't comment. that's the difference. if you look at what isabelle has written, it all comes down to 'you're not writing this in a way i can understand'. that means it's not going to be a poem she's read, and that means it's not going to be a poem she can critique. it'd be as though it were in French language for her and she couldn't read French and was yelling at me to speak English. it's that simple, to me, and i don't know why it's not that simple to you. this poem isn't a story and can't be explicated or re-grammaticised as one.
You didn't even try to answer any of my questions about change of pronouns or anything else. I find that a little strange. I love people asking what I mean in my poems, it makes me know they care.
Mike, she isn't telling you to re-write it to her specifications; she's telling you what, from her perspective, would make the poem clearer or better. That's what a critique is! And instead of being thankful for her input, even if you don't necessarily agree that her suggestions might better the poem, you completely dismiss her viewpoint as irrelevant. You dismiss Isabelle because your poem doesn't work for her, but then when someone else's poem doesn't work for you, you dismiss their poetic ability. Get off your high horse, and learn to take a critique like everyone else does.
snow, are you, personally, able to find anything in this that is a poem for you? does it resemble a poem? because it doesn't seem to be one for isabelle. that means she'd like me to write a poem instead of this incomprehensible mess i've posted.
GECK, glad you are back.
this is shit and needs to be deleted from this site.
why is it shit?
Gecko, this is a poem to me, and I'm sure Isabelle considers it one as well. Even if she considered it something that wasn't worthy of the title of poem, would she be so out of line saying that when you're constantly accusing other people's work of the same thing? Just take a criticism gracefully for once, regardless of whether you agree with it or not.
why is it a poem for you?
by the way, check this out:
and tell me about what i'm constantly doing. because, i think i'm always looking for the poet and the poem.
I don't know why I keep engaging mike instead of doing something more productive, but...
I consider it poetry because it's a work of creative writing formatted in verse. Sometimes that's enough -- believe it or not, not every piece of verse needs mike bauer's stamp of approval before it becomes poetry. What I'm saying you constantly do is tell other people their work doesn't qualify as poetry, but if someone even comes close to suggesting yours might not be, you're dismissive of them. And no one even suggested this wasn't a poem in the first place; you just put words in Isabelle's mouth. Therein lies the hypocrisy: you're willing to be a harsh critic of other people's work, but the minute anyone tries to offer honest suggestions to you, you dismiss their credibility. It's one thing to disagree with other's suggestions for your work. It's another to suggest that their critique is somehow irrelevant and less valuable than yours. Like I said: just take a critique graciously. It's not like we're all blessed and privileged to be reading and commenting on your work; you should be thankful that Isabelle took the time.
Snow, your perception of Mike is built on how others perciever him - i suggest you start thinking for your self for your writings sakes, currently - your a thin sheet of ice.
And just a question - how come i never saw you crit or post on the boards before your "poem" got into the all important top 10 ?
Unknown, I disagree -- I built my perception of mike from personal exchanges, including emails. Regardless of whether you agree with it, I don't think it's fair to say I'm borrowing my perception from anyone else.
"YOUR a thin sheet of ice" -- clearly this is coming from a wise authority. And what exactly are you accusing me of for not posting comments or threads before I had a poem in the top 10? First of all -- how many times do I have to say this? -- I don't think that poem is perfect; I'm glad about the attention it receives, but unlike mike, I don't see myself as some untouchable end-all authority on poetry. Here's a poem I commented on back in '07, just to put to rest whatever it is you're accusing me of: http://poetrycritic al.net/read/37741/
so, 'someday my prince will come' -- that's a poem too, because it's formatted in verse?
snow, it looks like you were pretty useless as a critic back then too. that's me, by the way, saying the helpful stuff. looks like you were just passing on template.
Yep, Mike thinks he has groomed Snow as his latest 'enemy' here - looks like the Bad Boy of Poetry has got the credentials he needs to think he is doing something right.
A self defeating concept , if there ever was one.
Okay, mike -- I'm done with you. It's obvious that you simply can't be reasoned with. I apologized for the mistakes I made in our exchanges, but you refuse to admit you've done anything wrong, and you refuse to take anyone else's ideas on poetry but your own into account. You are apparently incapable of respectfully disagreeing with someone, and you're a be-all, end-all authority on poetry in your own mind, and I or anyone else will never change that. So, go on being the "poetry bully", spewing your self-righteous ideas and hostility toward anyone who disagrees. I'm lowering myself to your level and wasting my time by engaging you in these petty arguments. I could be offering respectful and complimentary critique to other poets who, unlike you, might actually appreciate some input, but instead I keep coming back to you, so that's it; I'm done. No more feeding the troll. Your whole persona on here reeks of a bitter old poet who never made it, by the way.
In Frisco, who remembers your visit? The night scented with coffee, vivid with nut-lavender; my head spun in wonder: 'Someone has left his crown'... someone's laughter... 'and, his gloves ( smell the glove skin! was he naked??). You hurry away, the sidewalk twists inward; a roguish boy stops me: "Did you drop this"?
so, if you read this in a collection of translations of some french surrealist, would it all be 'those people are illiterate', or would your high-class literary moves take over and you'd maybe say, 'Ah, French writers write such beautiful images!' -- saying this at a cocktail party. maybe if i re-write it in French, you'd work the 'write in english' angle, and it'd die there.
Mike, the way you wrote it in your comment is much more clear than the formatting of the poem. If you had posted it that way, it would have made more sense, in my opinion.
if i'd have posted it this way, it wouldn't have been a poem. the way i wrote it shows the intuition markers for the careful reader. the poem hasn't changed, it's just that you're able to read it like a story. it's actually working on more than a story level and i think you're missing all the poem.
this is pretty nasty and i don't think you should post things like this unless you have the man in the poem get killed by the 'hustler'. you should write beautiful things and leave this kind of thing for adult only sites.
bump for comment. thanks.
bump this for comment.
i will call in 15 min
yep. i'm home.
i think my phone died. it's charging now.
yeah, the words are wet and sparkling, a quickness of breath infuses them -- a viscereality enthuses them, while wonder makes for swooning with them -- this is a love poem that has the power to bi-locate the reader from here to there while still being here, oh dear -- it is a chaste poem in that it is the best words in the best order to paraphrase Coleridge
and, the 'roguish boy'? i suppose you guessed that he handed me the glove from the cafe and then split to go off and be with friends? i think that's how it goes, but i wanted it to seem like a perfection. but, i think that was only supposed to appear in the poem's realm.
this defeats itself as poetry by using a reflection in a reflection in a reflection device. it should work, but it doesn't, as it is low thresh-hold, lazy writing.
i think i always liked this poem but i really don't feel the word 'roguish' is either perfect, nor needed. also nut lavender makes me think of a bathroom air freshener.
frisco is symbolic to me as a stylish group from the early 80's, black folk and gay folk, carousels and jazz all hopped up for a bag of popcorn on the golden gate bridge. it's flirty and casual, that's why rogue doesn't seem necessary. in frisco all the boys are cute.
i know you despise these kind of comments because i'm not talking about the 'music' or making the preferred 'dialogue' so you can give me the halo that goes so well with my other halo, but i thought i'd share my thoughts anyway.
well, it's true jen that you're not talking about the poem itself but about what you brought to the theatre to eat. i mean that you're bring all these 'it's not what i think...' moments, and they really don't count at all here in a workshop situation. look at the one above you, how he's going on about how a poem can't have layers and give the illusion of dimensions -- he's totally inarticulate -- or her, if it's who i think it is -- and can't really say out front that a poem is a cuddly suicide letter from an ex-boyfriend who is now so sorry.
anyway, this is a kinetic poem, and 'nut lavender', if you can give it a spray, has nothing to do with anything. in fact, this isn't a 'frisco' i've ever myself been in. i hate that town. really, but it's a vehicle for setting people up into 'what is this thing and what's going on??'. the solution is in the music -- like, going to rio and learning samba -- you don't know rio until you learn the samba.
there is no kinetic energy in this poem. it tries to be poetry, but cannot achieve that status, as the devices it tries to employ do not work.
I never said a poem cannot have layers. That is a misinterpretation of my words, which you are wont to do. I said the attempt to cause layers in this do not work.
You need reading lessons.
It remains lazy work, ineffective writing, and a poor example of the poetic device.
The term "Frisco" dates back to well before the Saint Louis and San Francisco Railroad (Frisco Line) was even a dream, and it never got anywhere near San Francisco. Call it "The City." This is more palatable to those within sight of the two big bridges. It also would add a bit of anonymity to the scene. You may also consider "up the Bay from SFO."
if you've ever lived in frisco, you know what a cold dog that town is, and how everyone's pride is that they don't live in LA.
it's 'frisco', to the poets and dreamers, and always will be. if you want paris, go to paris.
"no kinetic energy" -- it's not a rolling sonnet, it's its own form, and if you tuck and dip in this you'll find it.
the burden isn't to sound like a poem to people who don't know poetry, it's to sound the way you know the poem has to sound. the reader has to figure out the poem's meaning, and that takes interest in reading the poem in the first place. i don't hear, in your responses, that you're reading this in good faith. had you, you'd have mentioned at least one thing which indicated what i wanted to do and how it didn't work. there's no detail in your crit, whereas there's a lot of detail in the poem. show me.
"I never said a poem cannot have layers. That is a misinterpretation of my words, which you are wont to do. I said the attempt to cause layers in this do not work.
You need reading lessons.
i'm sorry, but this is just too much like political rhetoric not to make me dismiss it as agenda. you do say, 'it should work, and that's enough to justify what you're claiming, if we're talking about the same thing. i don't think we are, because i'm reading your comments and your condemnations as focused on 'content'. it's as though i weren't 'talking about the right things', and all i want to talk about in this is how 'the right things to say' are dynamic, momentary, and not at all in concord with someone else's perceptions of the situation. the narrator, in some kafka moment, states that there was some formal reality to his being 'in frisco' -- we don't even know if 'frisco' isn't a person -- and that the narrator's solution is proust-like, rather than kafka, in forcing some sense data to be objective, something which, in itself, sense cannot be. the virtual hallucinations -- did someone at some place really 'say' what the narrator's reporting -- 'someone has left ( his most important symbol ), was he naked' -- is not 'reliable' and needn't be, for a poem to work out of this. the second section, then ( "you hurry away" ) is a time-swap and into the subjunctive, not the obvious 'subjective', where the mode changes -- he's seeing himself as 'see-able', but only because he's afraid people are staring at him. the 'roguish boy', is one of those 'pissy' words elegant sissy's use to put everyone else at a distance -- he's defining this kid, maybe someone who just told him he'd 'dropped something', as an agent out of his own fantasy world. the poem itself is really about the tipping and swaying caused by the rhymes and semi-rhymes. it's a constructionist poem, and all it needs to do to work is 'open up the reader's eyes' so that the reader is just a little more aware that he has to read more carefully. that's nothing, compared to suicide notes and praises of allah, but i think it's the foundation itself of poetry, and so much of what gets posted here is flat and dull transcription of imaginary dialogs with sympathetic listeners.
You read my words wrong. You got it wrong. There really is nothing else to say. You need to go back to school, and learn how to read.
This remains a weakly written poem, with weak devices, no music, no energy on any level, and nothing worth the noticing, other than it is very weak and lazy writing.
It is good that you apologize for getting it wrong, though.
I know poetry.
This is not poetry.
By the way you must not be from dull so.cal, but from the west coast, with a little knowledge... as i have lean toward the fun aspect of this piece again as i look at it i am amazed... j. g. smiles
unknown, all you're telling me is your subjective experience with my poem. if it's all subjective then my poem is a good poem -- by definition.
i would like to know what level you're writing your crit on and what poets you think are poets. anything else from you would just be more bitching in your beer. you'd better show some substance on this or not comment on poetry which is beyond your IQ and emotional maturity.
Incorrect. Your logic is faulty. In my subjectivity, this is poor poetry.
good morning unk, small chance in beating up geckodrome esq.... you will need a syllabus, this gentleman is on his game, poetry... i am not trying to float this guy to heights unknown, but you could get a nose bleed... j.g. smiles
unknown, give me the name of a poet you admire so that i can have an understanding of your aesthetic. otherwise, i don't even know if you normally read poetry at all.
Goeszon, this is not about beating anyone up, this writing has no merit as poetry, and consists of a lazy semblance of words into a poor conclusion of thought.
Trashpoodle, it is your fate to be in the dark, and remain there.
in comparison to what?
unknown, your trying to punk me out and that's pointless. i'm too elastic. for any of us you have to say what poet you like, what you think a good poem should look like -- meaning, if you can't get that notion, that you have to show us where you're at -- what you like as poetry and why it's even important to you to be banging your head here. cause, i don't know if it's that you've got a trip on me or whether you really think that poetry is this one particular thing you have in mind. for all i know, you might only like rhymed poetry. you're not showing anything about yourself in any serious way and that makes you out to be a fake.
yes, you are fake, this is fake poetry, written by a fake, who remains in the dark.
you're just playing games here. go read some wallace stevens or yeats and find out how much stronger poetry can be when it's not about your sex problem.
bump, to show internal relationships formed with sound and rhythm to make 'content' real.
I've said before I won't attempt any in-depth critique of your writing and I stick to my guns, however; I can comment on what I found enjoyable while reading this.
L6-9 are delightful to say aloud. I like how vivid works with lavender and spun works with wonder. I read through this several times and it created its own rhythm and timing so I believe I found the dance in it.
My only critique is the repeat of "someone" in L10 and then again in L12. If it is the same someone in both lines then fine, but if it's two "someones", why not "another's laughter" in L12?
There is a sort of dreamy quality to this that I like. Kind of like how we sometimes remember a very real moment but color it with a bit of unreality in the recall--if that makes any sense at all.
Your ability to make words work and play with each other is well displayed.
the double 'someone' is actually a modulation, so that they're not really the same word -- the second s'one is in the author's voice, a 'thought' and stage-direction at once, and should have a question mark after it, for the thought, but not for 'off-stage laughter'.
thanks very much for your read, and for reading it outloud! yes, it's supposed to trip trippingly off the lips and feel good to read. the dance is there, and it's fred astaire more than martha graham, but still...
When I first started visiting this site, a poem like this was above my ability to comprehend or appreciate. I was a victim of 21st century top-ten novels and Hallmark cards. You often mention that to write well, one must read well and plenty (or a variation thereof).
I took that to heart and embarked on a "better reading plan" and have been reading a much better caliber of writing this last year. The transition was rough at first, my mind being accustomed to the more simplistic writing style employed by the current best-seller authors but I've learned to appreciate and understand more complex writing.
i'm impressed. i think, though, that for us it was that some poem grabbed us at an early age and made us believe in poetry. and, a poem which sings is much better than a letter to you from some poet -- even if it's robert frost's letter. dylan thomas' 'do not go gentle into that good night' is rock solid real as poetry for me -- showing how the rhythm of the poem and the vocabulary force the single meaning of an idea onto the reader. and, in a way that seems to the reader as though they'd thought it up themselves. and, they remember that poem -- not just a smart line, but the entire thing, as though it were a song.
Your comment prompted me to think about how my love for reading and words developed. My Mother read to us when we were small. Nursery rhymes, the classic fairy tales (modern watered down versions but classics none the less)--have you ever read the original Aesop's Fairy Tales?--brutal aren't they in comparison?
Anyway between the above and the fact that I grew up with five brothers so the television was always tuned to sports so I didn't watch it, have a lot to do with how I developed into a reader. Not watching television turned me into a reader by age six. I am fortunate in that my parents fully indulged this and never said no to a request for any book I wanted. Looking back, I read better quality writing as a child than throughout my teens and adult life until now.
Do you recall a pivotal poem or book from your childhood?
the reading thing -- i think you would have read anyway -- reading is so much more vivid than t.v. or movies if you have an active imagination.
and, the first poem...
i'm four years old, and reading in a kid's magazine:
"the little boy went bang a bang,
and shot the old orangutang.
this handsome beast should quickly mend,
for all the bullets were pretend."
now, the thing is it's crap on several levels, even as poetry for kids, and i didn't like it -- but it was so confusing to me! i didn't know the animal, or the 'handsome' thing, but i did know 'pretend'. so, now that you're asking me about this first poem event, i'm realizing that that's the first time i really talked with my mom about 'literature', and that maybe that made me think that poetry was important, because she had something to say about it as poetry and writing? and, not in a very complicated way -- just enough to let me know that you could read things which had to be worked out as an idea, and not just as a phonetics problem?
anyway, that's when i started writing my own stuff, in imitation.
...must go to work...will return to this conversation later...
bumped for comment, since it's in comment on another site.
(wow, long shift.)
piece of shit writing. delete it.
this piece of shit is about cruising in San Fransico picking up under age rent boys.
um, no, it's about being alienated from arty fashion types in the art world, and losing my aesthetic, then getting it back just by being recognized by some cool looking dude. i wouldn't go to bed with him, though, unless he was a genius. and, that's why i've never rented anything more rad than a car or a dvd...
still a very nice read.
thanks for bumping it up.
thanks, i still like it too. it's got a lot of color, it seems to me, for such a minimalist poem. alc was talking about the 'smell' thing in this, and that's almost a novelist's move, to grab the reader by casually mentioning the smell of the crime scene.
im confused with this one