In the nights so cold, [perhaps a comma right here?] the stars hang bright
and frozen, burn the crocuses in the oil lamp
I gave you, and imagine our fingers,
interlaced, my chest against your waist, [loved the little rhyme you have with 'interlaced' and 'waist'. and on your neck
my lips so chapped they crack. Listen to the sound
of a tree branch fractured by the winter storms, the dynamite
igniting in the darkness, softened by the distance,
and the snow-choked sky that trembles above us.
1- This one was a very awesome piece. There was just something about it that made it irresistible. The subtle rhyming, the rhythm was just fantastic. Although, I would add that comma on the top line for grammatical reason. But brilliant job. It's a very peaceful poem.
Some nights I have a series of dreams
I can't remember: though I know they gather
around a rape--and I am brutal because I am
naked, my body's figure formed against the lightest sleight
of evening, not because I am named--a cookie
is not the only substance that receives the shape
of the instrument with which it's cut--a distinction
I think the scientific community should observe,
if not everyone.
2- No errors, here, although it's a little vague. Most poetry is to me, though. I understood the dream part, but after the cookie I was lost. I tried re-reading it, but I just don't get it. Poetry is so foreign to me, I need to pick it up again. But the rhythm was great again, (I know poetry doesn't have to) but I prefer the subtle rhyming that you had in the first poem.
There is nothing more troubling than the way
we abolish language, the space between our frames
so narrow I scrape and break against you. Take me
in your arms like you did that night I called you,
hold me down--I am so tired of being a Lichtenberg figure:
this fern-like pattern that sprawls and disappears
in the wake of a lightning strike.
3- This one was really good. Very clear and easier to understand what's going on. About the bolded part > I would ditch it. It doesn't really fit, and it's just adding another couple of words that had already been stated in the previous line. Sorry, I'm trying to rip this apart, but it's already so perfect, I can't find anything else. But yes. Ditch that bolded part. The rest will go on it's own.
I lack a suitable god-term, a jargon for ultimacy,
finality. God staples you to the sparkplug
of life, leaves me to fight the bordered language
between lust and luster. Tonight I have a dream
I don't remember, and when you reach to wake me
from my thrashing, I shift away. This is the
rip in fabric, my shirt on the floor and splayed out
three feet before me, and my jeans around my feet--
your touch forgotten in advance--
4- Whoa. Dude. This was really good. I especially liked the first part, about the sparkplug and lust and luster. You have an amazing way with words. I wasn't so 'Whoop-de-doo' on the last half - it suggests something... dirty right? Or that could just be my perverted side. Haha.
This is a failure of technology in the oldest sense:
it allows us to see ourselves as changed and to remain
unchanged. It is an unwelcome reprieve from the blood
that spreads through me like a theory and lets me believe
these failures will become precious through repetition,
if unforgiven
5- Eh. I'm not to iffy with this one. It just... it's not very much like the others. It reads like a very long run-on sentences. So far, I think this is my least favorite one. There's nothing too special with this. Eh. I keep reading it, expecting for something amazing to leap out, but nothing is.
In the morning, there will be a trail of thunderheads
behind us. You will wake before me and see the branch--
which we thought was far away--only several paces east
of where we slept. For today, suffering is somewhere else:
several paces east and past the orange trees. I would pray
to God if I believed in one; instead, I know only
the baleful forms our valences assumed in winter light: I have you
and the earth and the sky.
6- :) This one was pleasant. I wasn't quite sure how to read this though. Most poetry isn't literal, but I expected this one to be. But then, it doesn't make sense. XD Sorry I'm jabbering. Anyway, nice work with this one. Pleasant, creates a good mood. Sorta. :S
You put your arm around my waist; your fingers
sketch your name across my side and down my leg:
reclaim me from the dreams I won't remember, from
the forms I might become. Are you not afraid of how
these verbs decline? How poetry has yet to emerge--
the image is no substitute, just an anecdote in the mouth
of a stillborn. Your touch returns me from a heart grown soft
and frail, like lace, from age or lightning. Like a blouse,
the most elegant crimes were left undone.
7- Oh! This was my second favorite! Very descriptive, but still sorta vague. I can only get a little bit of a picture of what's going on, and then -- BAM! You change the way I was thinking. Not quite sure, but this one gave me a cool picture. Some of your wording is so... uh, how do I say it? It's so unique? that I can't understand what you're talking about. But I guess I just need to read a little bit more poetry. As for the writing, it was wonderful. Great job.
-Jared
