Before a great big bomb destroys the Western Coast of the United States

Hey there, Will! Since it's Review Day, and I haven't reviewed in a little while, I thought I would review your poem! And, of course, get the inspiration to write yet another poem, as is always the custom after I read anything of yours.

To be honest, there isn't much I can say against this. It almost seems self-referential, given the way it skips from the wildfires on the West Coast to the one individual suffering under the wrath of an unhelpful vacuum cleaner and the said wildfires (and, of course, your residence). Perhaps that said shift - from far back in the distance to up close - can be a tad jarring, since you pull your audience from a first-person narrator discussing the "end" of the West Coast, to a third-person narrator with a malfunctioning vacuum cleaner, with no emphasis on anything in between. On the other hand, shifting to the perspective of one individual adds some humanity and sense to it; yet, in spite of the poem's wonderfully concise length, it could do with perhaps being a little longer and focus on a few more distances between the West Coast and single individual. That's just me, but I keep overexaggerating the influence of the boy in my head like I'm trying to compensate for the shift in perspective.

Too, I'm not sure I completely understand the core meaning of the piece. Why is the speaker wishing for what is, in effect, more suffering on the part of who appears to be themselves or somebody they know? "A great big bomb" reminds me of the San Andreas Fault and some of the other tensions in the West Coast, so perhaps the speaker is more or less wishing for a less painful demise in comparison to the collapse of the region. On the other hand, who is to say there is a core meaning? Who says a wish has to be a good one? This poem is a little hard to unravel, despite appearing small and simple, and I have to give you credit for this. It certainly attracts the reader's attention and makes them focus on, and contemplate the meaning of, this poem more.

Lastly, I do find that "I'll wish for the wildfires to burn twenty/thousand more acres..." to be a little bit of a jarring shift, since I tend to pause at the end of lines. While, stylistically, it isn't that bad of a move, it doesn't seem that purposeful. In the meantime, your other line breaks make sense, don't disrupt my reading of the poem, and "slight mal/functioning" provided that pause that seems incredibly appropriate, as it implies a break corresponding to something malfunctioning. So I would suggest separating it to "I'll wish for the wildfires to burn/twenty thousand more acres," to communicate the same effect without being as disrupting.

But it would be silly of me to write a review with only negative commentary. Other than the above, I find this work flawless. It has your usual exceptional style, organization, and manages to communicate a well-created message in a few lines. I find it fascinating to read and ponder through, as well as creating meaning out of it. And that sense of black comedy provided by the person whose vacuum cleaner is, unfortunately, not being of service in the middle of wildfires.

All in all, well done! While hard to grasp at first, the subtlety of potential meanings is brilliantly communicated, and you manage to pack a lot of contemplation into a small poem. Great job!

As soon as I saw this title, I knew who had written it. Someone said this to me about one of my titles, and I asked them if I was getting too predictable. You're not. You're just finding your way into your own style and embracing the titles that come along with it.

I really liked this. I don't think there's much to give to you in the way of criticism. While I would never disagree with Audy, I kinda like the second stanza. However, I didn't relate it to the vacuum, but to the great big bomb. I don't know if I was right, but I'd like to think that the West Coast of the United States wasn't bombed due to

humming noises
and slight mal
functioning.

KutieKoala here for a review!

You said this was a one stanza poem but instead it has two stanzas which was a lie. But moving on from that, I like the variation you have between the two stanzas. How the topic is slightly connected from both paragraphs and all.

Along the haze
and under it, a sweaty boy will turn on

What I imagine here is the distant sound of fire consuming trees. It's a percussive, erratic beat and with the vacuum, maybe it would sound like a sweeping synth wave. A sound that swells and releases and consumes the ear and flushes out the mind. Brown noise with the bass so strong and the world ripped of treble completely. It's the end of the sweaty boy's world, but at least he has a chill wave going for his pyre tune.

You do words good. Snaps for you, snaps for Audy.

Give me more to eat up, k? I like musician poetry.

Ty

What did the sweaty boy expect? It's a vacuum cleaner!




You really don't need the last stanza telling us what we already know about a common household object, kill it. You're bombing the western coast of the US, you can afford to be bold!

Nothing more to say. This was ace.

*snaps* *snaps* *snaps*

~ as always, Audy