when i ate the mold - II

Hello, My Friend!

Pleasure to meet you! I spotted this in the Green Room and hoped to give it the attention it deserves with a quick review. Hope you don't mind!

To start, I did not catch that "II" at first and was excited to realize that you have a whole quartet of poems focused on this moldy theme, which is so cool! It feels like there's this theme of biological horror going on, with the mold slowly corrupting the narrator perhaps, and that echoes here with the eerie thoughts and actions echoed here.

*ahem* As far as a technical review goes, I don't have much to recommend. The structure here is so cool—I love how the first four lines spell out the word "MOLD." If I had any complaint, well...I guess it'd be that I wish there was a little bit more here! But that's such a tiny nitpick, and what's here is already awesome haha.

My favorite part, ooo...Aside from that cool trick you pulled in spelling out "mold" I would have to say:

inhaling dust i think of spectacular things;

but they do not think of me.

This line got me thinking. It feels like it's saying, "I think of spectacular" (or in this poem's context, morbid) things, but none of it seems to satiate the narrator, perhaps? Intruiging to think about, and it leaves me curious as to what III and IV will do to expand upon this...

Overall, this is such a cool poem with a great theme! Nicely done!

Hai :3

Oooooh, this one is short but it cuts deep!! It feels almost like an incantation, something ancient and heavy, like a whispered curse or a prophecy. There’s this weight to it, this inevitability, and I LOVE how it moves from grand, almost mythical language to something deeply personal and lonely by the end.

mighty man,
old with many hands.

Firstly, the formatting choices are making me think!! There is something really disconnected about the first letters of each line being, well, disconnected. It alienates the narrator more than they already are. I don't know if that was the intended purpose, but that's a neat vibe nonetheless!! It's especially compelling here because mighty has a lot of connotations to it; I think this could signify that his might is more of a mask/almost an internal justification.

This opening is so intriguing though because “mighty man” instantly makes me think of something legendary, like a biblical figure or a mythic warrior, but then “old with many hands” is eerie. There’s something almost monstrous about it ~~ Is he literally many-handed, like some ancient deity or king? Or is it metaphorical to mean he has touched too much, taken too much, held too much power? It already feels heavy, like this figure is both grand and grotesque. I probably should read the first part... :') Though, this is very interesting to me as a stand-alone!!

inhaling dust i think of spectacular things;
but they do not think of me.

I love how this turns inward !!!

The poem starts grand, commanding, like it’s about some legendary, dying figure. But then it shrinks, zooming in on this lonely, unacknowledged existence. That is so cool!! The contrast between thinking of spectacular things and them not thinking of me is devastating. It’s that feeling of being full of wonder, full of ideas, full of something enormous, but none of it sees you back. None of it cares. It’s such a quiet heartbreak, and it makes the poem’s ending feel so hollow in the best way!!

There’s this incredible tension between grandeur and insignificance, power and helplessness, and I love that!! The language is sharp, the rhythm is perfect, and the ending leaves this ache behind. Amazing work!! ^_^

- Payton