Kylan

april 5 carthage jail nettled june in carthage, heat knotting and drowsing like a lesson in flyfishing and a sisterhood of birch trees chapping whitely and sidesaddle in afternoon, branches ...

#4 - Got tones of Eliot there with the closing line; but in this case, you did disturb the universe, haha. I enjoyed this poem quite a bit. Stanza 1 ...

april 4 farm (i am not a farmer) paint the trunks white in the isosceles light of afternoon and find out why the new peach tree, shaky and skinny as ...

I enjoyed them all, but my favorite other than the first is "Cast". It spoke to me most quickly, and most poignantly. The first two lines are funny, and of ...

These are great. You're back with a vengeance. Not sneaking in from the back porch at all -- it's evident that you will take this napo by storm. If anything, ...

april 3 dust in a jar hot ash through wood, nightjars kettled out of song like honeysuckles slurped of bee-proper sweetness— self-scalping, mountain like a bear-scored hive, rutting and blooming ...

april 2 portrait of the artist, with beard i could hear grandfather's blood marbling off of a cot of wristbones, skin trustling and stillsweet like months-dry alfalfa and on his ...

So damn good. I could feel some serious Plath there near the end. Great opening. I want to hear you slam this poem on a stage. I'll be back with ...

april 1 desert stone-ground flowers caught in the new night like the sockless creak of cedar dawn floorboards— the lyric bone of old hanging-trees, white and moral with vulture, and ...

7. I awaken I think. Marshlights reappear, geese come trailing again up the flyway. In her ravine under old snow the dam-bear lies, licking lumps of smeared fur and drizzly ...

I'll try to be there! Kylan

Review "liking" is an excellent idea! Kylan

i am eerie with lights— to raise a hand, turn away from angels as visited boy-prophets; swarm-patterns, cramped abortions of paper lanterns, or the dubious fur-trap of northern lights, undulating ...

Due to the length, I'm reduced to a line-by-line critique. Have you ever been down to the M82? Where you find whiplashed stars, shattered streams of light that whisp away ...

electric shears loose-metaled, tattling and stripped like hyena bones—tangled in the gray shallows of wool that i could choke myself through like a hoarse voice after an ankle broken in ...