archaeopteryx

Well Jutt, wandering into my territory? I'm going to have fun with this review. I will get super philosophical and in-depth because you're doing, or at least attempting, to do some very advanced "writing", for lack of a better word.

Jagged wrote:you woke up in my arms this morning,
and, laughing, wondered at the feathers in your hair,
asked if i had put them there--to which i answered
i wish--and then: no.

You really do understand flow and rhythm. Also, I commend you on your careful usage of articles and conjunctions (I sound like a broken record, awesome), and then de-capitalizing "I". So these lines read well, though the word choice from "and, laughing, wondered" is choppy. Wondered is so easy to mistake for wandering in an initial reading, and then the feathers in hair directly after, makes me think it's too superficial. But as always, I will withhold judgment until the end of this deeper reading. The 3 and 4 line are good, I would be careful with "i" being so prevalent. It drowns the focus and wandering direction of a poem if the reader keeps meeting i,i,i,i,i,i,i,i; don't you think? Tinker with the word choices, mind you the base structure is superb, so these lines have more spirit.

but perhaps, i proposed, they had
fallen from the wings of the birds that trail along
the bumps and shallows of your spine and weave
under the dip of your clavicles, for,
i promise,

Proposed? Hm. I'm starting to get a beef with these verbs you have. They're not working with your idea's flow. Like a bad relationship you want to make happen, but then you realize you're an idiot and you're on Jersey Shore trying to make it work somehow. Ok, so from "they had...to clavicles" you're actually getting into it. It, being the real idea, the real quest to show, the real nothing to find at the pursuit of examining words. You provide interesting imagery, I would ask you make it more jarring, but I'll be honest, it's good as is. One thing: feathers fall from wings. That's obvious. Too obvious. You then make these birds going along a spine....and it's not as lurid and novel as it ought to be. Invert the expectation, warp the senses. You start to do it, but you're holding yourself back, restraining what this bird metaphor is with something that the reader can infer them self.

.......(i have done this, yes:
.......lain awake while you slept, and
.......counted your heartbeats, and
.......alongside them my breaths)

No thoughts needed. This is where you're expressing the psychosis. Now, keep in mind it is only as good as the entire poem. Alone it means nothing. However you managed to construct this inner thought completely, and that's not an easy thing to do.

they come alive in the dark. i have seen this:
how they rise, and shudder, and breathe,
and hold their quiet while at their feet
the bones of you lie so terribly still under pretense
of ink, muscle and skin shifting and smooth.

Not liking the transition. I don't think it needs a complete real transition, no, that's too typical and boring. But if we nix the part before here and read "i promise,/ they come alive in the dark..." I can see a demented speaker hinting at their uh, interesting ( ) actions to this other person, but it isn't visceral. It isn't HITTING me. It's somewhat like mad musings from a rambler. For instance "their quiet while at their feet" is leaning into this indefinite subject too much. Your next line suddenly makes a jump to the person's bones. Then their muscles and skin is the topic, and ink? Are you hinting at insanity? But why the big jump? The idea's growth and evolution doesn't imply a transition, not because you have to, but the poem you've written forces you to.

.......(my fingers strayed, once, towards
.......the dim stars of their eyes, and
.......burned, helpless, for it.)
forgive me, for having closed my eyes
in the wishing you could see them too.

Hmm. Ending oddly. We start with feathers in hair, these odd birds, some allusions to watching someone sleep, studying skin and bone...etc. And the internalization is a good effort. I get the feeling many people will read this without thinking about it, and think "wow kewl" and not realize just how demented this thing is you've written. It's a walk into depression, and failure. Imagery possibly of dying angels, possibly of the desire to kill. If I could drink this like a milkshake, or eat it like ice-cream, I'd feel it was all cream with no milk, no sugar (sugar free can GTFO imo).

Finally to your title. It's fitting, but it's loose. An excuse to write something like this, I feel. Delve into the idea more. Make the words fuel the passion to write with no direction and no bearing, and really, no meaning in the words.