To my friend whose name is not robert

this kinda confused me. It even looked confusing before I read it. the first . stanza was very weird. especially:

I keep seeing oceans where there should be
a hole or the coherent
face of a loved one. I keep
getting distracted by the happy
meal hidden inside my happy meal and so forth
until I want to choke on the toy
like a depressed milk bottle toss winner or gerbil.
Have you had that feeling of something
sudden near the heart again yet?
Was there ever enough anatomy left
in our bodies to please everyone?
If only that was your forehead
banging on the wall next door that I am hearing.

This whole thing didn't make sense.
happy meals? choking? toys? Depressed milk bottles?

these are things I ask as I read this (poem?).


Robert, my history book on radar
is coming along—I have gotten to the chapter
where I explain the mathematics behind
calculating the precise volume of the tumor of a whale
from the inside of a submarine with a single ping.
The next project is to know the speed
of the red-shifting birds
whose dust we are eating.
What you always called finding your way in the dark
I called an escape pod. Robert, I forgot
how beautiful a city is Pocatello
where I am singing from a boat: it was never up
to either of us to save the other—
as usual, I was trying to hang myself

the main thing I'm thinking when I see this is how the next Robert, should be separated into another stanza. so that every stanza starts the same.


well done just a little confusing.

~Lylas

First, I may have to disagree with Hannah on the opinion of that first stanza. The 'hugging it out' line was the only thing that really appeared to be out of sorts when it came to it seeing as it was quite affronting and a bit too, whats the word. Unsubtle? As for the poignancy of what followed, I liked the sharp turns in imagery. The jagged cutting back and forth seeing as it weaved a certain amount of perspective, and coloured a history to this narrative I highly enjoyed.

As for the second stanza, the power in that last section is sort of stressed. The history book, for instance, I found rather difficult to discern. In fact, I didn't particularly discern it. Too much seemed stapled together so that, when you get to that harsh last few lines with all qualms unmasked, it doesn't feel as deeply, and I don't know if that's do to my not really connecting the dots here or not.

There's no denying something was written here with a lot more going for it than I can quite readily understand, but from my limited knowledge on the subject matter, I'd say it feels stressed, and wanes on certain subjects for whatever reason you saw fit.

Kylan, I miss your grasslands, but I accept the fact that you've moved on. Do you feel like you are still stumbling through the small-city blocks, or are they becoming clearer and clearer for you? Or are you ready yet for the next challenge?

I would say that the first stanza starts really rough. Hugging it out is real enough, but you fly on to absurd things that have no real meaning. Unlike the second stanza, they're not evoking the absurdness, but just being absurd. That said, the words themselves are really necessary in the poem. They bring out the tone well, but it's almost as if you found the right words and gave up on trying to put them together coherently, so we get nonsense sentences until the second half, where the questions come out clear and right.

Then you go on just long enough and with just enough imagery in the second stanza for us to nod our heads in agreement: "yeah, you would go just that far, because the other option is stagnation". I would say, though, that in my head I read this part:

whose dust we are eating.
What you always called finding your way in the dark
I called an escape pod.

I liked this sort of story I think. Is it a letter to a guy called Robert.