Oh man I am so rusty at the poetry reviewing thing.
I love your final stanza, even as the biologist in me quibbles about dendrites not actually moving. But it works so well as an image.
I just wish I could say the same of the others. You have the seeds of great imagery, and I like your approach to the subject (and can definitely relate to the feeling you seem to be trying to evoke), but it just doesn't work as well in the first two stanzas as it does in the last.
The first stanza is the roughest, and not in a good way. "Rush of consciousness confounds / thrrob of rusted-shut-Sunday-morning mind." reads like a jumble of verbs without direction, which I suppose works thematically, but it makes for a very confused start that feels like a mistake, as if you're missing some key punctuation or conjugation or article. I would probably like the initial image a lot more if the verbiage were a slightly bit more spaced out.
The emphasis of "three" at the end of the first stanza was quite nice though, and I liked the image of "caterwaul fever fingertips / frozen while translating dark to daylight", though that "hortatory" sticks out like a sore thumb painted red. The rest of the language in this is more accessible and common (since most people have at least heard of a synapse), and then suddenly an obscure word leaps out and befuddles. I actually had to look the word up to be sure of it's meaning, and I think that the more common "urgent" or "exhorting" would be better choices.
It looks like you were aiming for contrasts, but the caterwaul/hortatory contrast is just too distant a one to be made in so short a space.
That last stanza though. It's almost strong enough to stand on its own.
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Reviews: 1220
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