Inamorata (revised)

You hit the fucking mark! You punched the living shit out of your expressions and metaphors in this one, and they surrendered up a rich truth. You got er done, and there's no appologies to be made. A couple of points: In a poem like this where you blend abstractions to create an image, I like there to be more of a connection between the imagery, as I think it ties the poem more intimately togeather, and gives it a more readable feel helping blend the mood. This style is really popular in American poetry today.You read the poem like you were telling the story and it flows and comes togeather more coherantly and with more realistic impact. example: She burns his calm like no other [can] [a]cool ice [of] unpicked inaction would be a crime so he decides upon her conflagration Topaz gazes [with a] muted fascination clinging vines [of] undone tredipition ...ect. also the impact of the poem is greatly increaased when you make it in the presant tense and make it the first person I. It takes a little bit of guts to put yourself out their like that, but it really kicks the content into a more vivid form. the last line has to pop and it's just not reaching because it's to distant. merging tempest in agglomerate to seducer. Make this line live like you were spitting it out to your audience in your own voice.In your own way. Your second best in my oppinion. B

I read your latest poem, Inamorata. This is an interesting experiment, using words in apparently conflicting associations. I am very glad you gave yourself the task and there are many wonderful lines which have resulted. In doing such things, I find that some lines really work and some lines don't. My own method in approaching these sort of new endeavors is to write more lines than I intend to use and boil the final product down to be very best. There are some clichés here that do no justice to the poem: conflagration, molten and inflamed. (Molten, especially, I would ask you to swear never to use in the remainder of your lifetime.) There are other clichés: soul, came to pass. I am particularly enamored with the following lines: I’m cool ice unpicked stiff polyester stroked fluid zipper inaugurates solicitation tongue tip slides whispering warm knee back that sigh assumption I’m sweat slicked stuck to his wild west ranch his fingers lassoed in strands of gossamer, leeching me all sweet virgin ally cat claiming my stake of his raw damson pike You have a poet's appetites and you work hard on your art and these things are all to the good. Brian

Hmmm. I can see two men stoked! Well done miss vixy... btw, I borrowed your name for a rant of a poem, hope you don't mind, hope you don't mind... Love & stuff, Anna "If parents really would love their children there would no longer be any war." J. Krishnamurti