Poem to xantham_gum / subaltern seasong

"Poem to xantham gum" was shockingly wonderful! Felt like something I would have read a hardened expatriate American romance poet write....definitely love it.

well, the poem to...um...xanthan gum is short, but particularly beautiful. i really don't have much to say about it, but thank you for following through on my request. It seems like the old, beautiful word weaver Incandescence has returned.

subaltern seasong - a wonderful title. this poem is a bit more jumbled, much like your streamofconcious poem, but this is general and not specified unto your life. hence, i feel a lack of passion here. i'll say bluntly that it's not one of your best poem, but ever (perhaps more harshly) it is not one of your worst.

Do not wince
at the way
the world unfurls itself, its illusion
is the absinthe in our veins, and all the lies
are genuinely false.

i loved this ending, for example.

but the beginning, particually the first few lines, feel as if you were not exactly in the...zone, shall i say? by the end of the poem you have retained that feeling, but the beginning was just build-up that wasn't quite as good in quality.

Do not
wince at the way
the world
unfurls itself. Nothing here
really changes.

i'd suggest you revise these linebreaks. i cannot offer how, though.

zany,

Thank you. That is all I can say.


xantham,

In defense, I think it may be the stark contrast in style between the two that has thrown you off. They aren't directly related, but, I can see what you mean about a feeling of disconnect...a kind of removal from one's own inner reality and extension into the palindonic shape of omniscience. Thanks for reading and responding!

The first poem, incredible. The second a different style but It was jumbled in a good way, like thoughts. It was really deep and meaningful.

I liked the second one better. The first seems full of itself. The second though, has a very intersting, unique style. It comes off as a dialogue, and utilizes line breaks to give a picture of a fractured conversation. Imagining what fractures it is the fun in the poem. The speaker is not perfect, so the flaws in the poem cannot be attributed to the wreiter (wink) but only to the speaker. Nice work. (The first one's good too. I just don't want your head to get big.)