SUBJECT>Re: (Draft 5) POSTER>Laurel EMAIL> DATE>1111364864 EMAILNOTICES>no IP_ADDRESS>cpe-204-210-183-72.neo.rr.com PASSWORD>aaFRbor6/KzWk PREVIOUS>85106 NEXT> 85136 IMAGE> LINKNAME> LINKURL>

I changed my mind about that hack job I promised to inflict earlier today. This doesn't need hacking. It's really rich. Lush. I'm mostly wondering if the formatting here is intentional. Right now, it's the single thing that's not working for me at all. I wanted to chop off the 2 perhaps' but thought better of it. I tripped and tripped over consolidation and I think I'm still struggling with that word if only because I see every day where I work and my mind can't seem to make the shift from the financial world to this winter world. I like this alot. Hopefully, GC and Hannah will chime in and give you more meaningful feedback than I have. I do find the poem overwhelming---but in a good way. Is this the draft you're sticking with for now? I don't know. Reading something like this causes me to rethink that last poem I posted and heck, all the poems I've posted lately. When I read your poems, I feel like you've really committed yourself to them. I don't feel I've made that same committment to mine. Someone on one of the poetry blogs, Wendy Wisner maybe, said that all the poems she'd written lately seemed to be lacking heart. And when I read that, I thought, oh....that's my problem. I can write a poem, but I can make its heart beat?

Your poem, sir, has heart.

Laurel

And, for what it's worth, while I did enjoy the whole poem, I did especially like this section:

: I'm done with this poem, ready to burn it. Ha.

: The snow plow hasn't come alongside the lonely
: snow man and the cleaver.
: Ha. The shrunken pashmina scarf on the edge of
: a driveway blown off
: by the child's breath already her breath is an
: iguana with red red cheeks
: and a cherry for a nose--the child, I mean a
: daughter.
: She played a veena, the one stringed veena
: disappeared from her fingers. Aba, no one
: plays the Veena anymore, or listens. You
: could almost say
: the child or the snowman were living in a yard
: fenced in by wrought iron.
: She wanders on the snow of paper, plows through
: a paragraph unthinking,
: as if to say: this is your child;
: she has cherries for cheeks. (The likeness of
: rum
: on my breath mixed with egg nog.) Ha. The rain
: sops the snow off the spiny umbrella. I walk
: through the loose wind by Lake Ontario and
: the absentminded landscape, waves clambering
: up granite. A tug from the wind to my
: liking...
: on Dundas Street by the absent bench where I
: met a father.
: Green tea and sponge cake dipped in seaming
: cane sugar water. Here I can meet him again
: and he recites Iqbal in accents that I
: cannot hear.