Young Writers Society

I think people are afraid of you Brad. XD Anyway, I guess I'll give a poetry crit a go.

Incandescence wrote:Q: How does a body disappear?
A: It doesn't.


There were no partitions to this but finally a year was.
The world inside the mirror was heartrenderingly beautiful
and convulsively sad: in it, the already-gone beloved was always turning
a corner. His back in an overcoat. Up front, a high wind and threatening
to upend the stage and the players with it and bring the curtains down.

The cyclone would be worth the risk.

But if only the world would look new again...

Dumb numbers gawked from the clock face. The hole where the hands
were supposed to be was empty and endless. A bell tolled erratically and never
on the hour. Punishment and longing were meted out. Molecules in motion and memory,
the endless M words. He continued to live in the space that it took
to conjure him up. If I had only done X when instead I'd done Y. Then he would have seen
this sun, this rain, this whatever — a light bulb blinking as it's about to go out.
"Define a day for me", someone said. Tragic from beginning to end.