Panace

[Gazette]

http://netcees.co/showthread.php?t=12600

http://netcees.co/showthread.php?t=14285

Panacea

1. Emily

one night I wander waywardly. Aimlessly along the rayless streets
past granite shanties, befogged by rain and sleet, not one warm nook to lay and sleep
then I find you. A curly little caterpillar, who'd crawled beneath the trestle
sleepy, nestled in the dying Whitlow and Shepherd's-Purse that streaks the pebbles
pipe still hot and redolent - your ring-less fingers scorched a coffee-hue
hair as black as fossil-fuel, a dog-eared shower curtain shrugged on top of you
the sign above the bar blinks apple-neon, one broke bulb is a crypt for the flies
you've pissed on your thighs, head cranked back and tilted, like you're kissing the sky
you're beautiful. Below the methane emissions that hang like a rainbow
i lay my head on this magnanimous angel, fall fast asleep in her halogen halo
she wakes. Her crystal eyes, they fall on me like breaking waves on sand
and when i kneel to present the rock, she doesn't hesitate to take my hand

~

2. Tomorrow

dear Emily,

you left, i descended. Every time i close my eyes, i see the eels
bloated, black aliens ... wheezing with disease, more than even the streets can yield
their sweltry hide's like boiled kale, moist and pale - they're eating me
nowadays you're keeping clean, but I had no such grace bequeathed to me
i shan't lie. The sidewalk would be softer, if i had your hand to hold
had you not gone back to home, this concrete - would not be, quite so damp and cold
don't you remember? How we set into motion no fettering notion of honour or pride?
slinging rock on the side? - we were Ben Sanderson and Sera, we were Bonnie and Clyde
regardless, i still chalk my poems on the boulevard ... maybe you read them
it's like you always said, they make that little square of pavement an Eden
don't worry, i won't post this letter, it would only be fueling my sorrow
please love me. please love me.

yours truly,

Tomorrow

~

3. Panacea

now you'll see me. You fucking robot, your garden is so sickly green
home so crisp and clean, ph-neutral soap, pro-plus, propane pumps and Listerine
crow bar up beneath the lintel - easy, simple, tears and splinters blend with the rain
it bends with the strain, the oak cracks, I hesitate - then remember the pain
the guardian comes - a shabby old Terrier, hardly a vessel of speed and strength
she's in less than decent health. But our eyes align and for a moment, i see myself
an LP hiccups under a needle, from buzzard to beetle, creatures preserved for exhibition
it's thin and brief; some inner peace - but there's no extradition from this mental prison
i creep up the stairs, my whitened knuckles lightly brushing the balustrade
i am afraid. But Emily, you said to me - you promised you'd never take your hand away
wherever you go the pain will follow
i'm just a bad dream, of course. But at least you've faced Tomorrow.



Dedicated to Thrill

[Geno]

will feed at another date and time. upping for now

[Gazette]

bump

[Certain]

First off, welcome back.

The first section was the strongest. The descriptions were vivid, though I'm not sure if "whitlow" means something other than a finger absess in England. This was the strongest section of the entire piece:

the sign above the bar blinks apple-neon, one broke bulb is a crypt for the flies
you've pissed on your thighs, head cranked back and tilted, like you're kissing the sky
you're beautiful. Below the methane emissions that hang like a rainbow
i lay my head on this magnanimous angel, fall fast asleep in her halogen halo

It was a bit overwrought, but what isn't? I think you could sleek down your writing with fewer similes, though. Though I liked the rainbow one, they can get wearisome, and straightforward metaphors often punch up writing more.

Now, let's talk about the plot. So there's a lot of intentional ambiguity here. I recognize that the entirety of the verse was metaphorical, but I wish there had been a slightly more direct exposition. To my understanding, our narrator is a drug or a drug dealer. I couldn't quite grasp why the second stanza was written as a letter from "Tomorrow" when it seemed to be from the same narrator as the other two stanzas.

I think I missed connections on a few of the dots, and that meant that the emotional effect of the last two stanzas was dampened. I loved the first couplet of the third stanza, but I had a hard time exactly placing what it meant in the context of this. So she's living a clean life, and our drug/drug dealer/fellow drug addict narrator resents her for it. That's what I've gathered.

Anyway, I really dig your diction. Your rhymes are unimpressive but secondary and almost incidental, in a good way. You don't allow them to control your writing at all. It would be nice to see a better mastery of that aspect, but it also makes your writing stand out in this realm to lack in that category a bit. You have a very human but poetic voice and way of capturing small images. It wouldn't be a bad idea to further develop the bigger picture, though.

[Split]

"Your ring-less fingers scorched a coffee hue" was expertly done and really worked itself not the heart of your verse/ characters.

Not sure if your style is influenced by a wide-range of writers flavor of the month style, you are very conscious of your mechanics, or if you change your style for the context of a piece. Anyways I think it's good to develop a style with characteristics and grow it in a particular way, one that is comfortable for you and intrinsic to you, and then step outside of those bounds instead of jumping into a new puddle of stylistic flair with every verse. Do you.

I think this came across as stilted. "Shan't" lol. Some sections have very unforced rhyming, which is good. Still think your conceptual arc is way too broad for any normal human being to relate to and appreciate. I like picking things apart, but not on the scale of the whole verse. just on a line by line basis..

Try speaking to your audience. Be your own accepted canon. Not badly written or anything. Just kinda unapproachable.
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