Time (edit .001 - Leanne, Billy)

[rayheinrich]

Ray, what can I say,

I was raised a Southern Baptist and despite my best efforts to eradicate it,
it still seeps through on occasion. Still, I think that ingrained knowledge
can be useful, especially in terms of rhythm and tone.

Being raised a Southern Baptist is a unique experience at which I can only
hope to marvel. While never having had this opportunity, I can at least make
claim to having been raised between, among, and amongst them. I have only to
reach my final destiny (which I was assured was hell) to make my experience complete.  

...  The first two lines are too cute and the last five lines are drama queens.
Intellectual reminisce is betrayed by such. ...

I agree, but since I knew that when I wrote it...that is to say it was done
purposefully. I would have to say it is the last lines (I don't know what you
are counting as lines) that are too cute - and it does make me cringe. Still,
a similar thing was suggested by Billy, so I thought I would give it a try.
I just realized I ought to put "Billy" in the title.

Since the invocation of intent is unassailable (and the fact of Billy's
involvement makes it doubly so), I must genuflect to your antecedence
as well as any of your various body parts that find themselves hanging over
the metaphoric (as well as real) castle wall.

... I do believe a poem should stand on it's own and not have to resort to tricks, but we shall see.

What fit has wrenched you from all frames of rationality?
The elemental quantum-mechanical firmament of literature (and poetry,
its addled progeny) IS trickery!!

By all that is sacred, what daemon has seized thee?

"If what we desired enfolded us we would stand silent."
- Dorian Mode

"We writers here we implement the evil that
Last flew Pandora's jar, that charlatan called hope."
- anon (ref.  Herbert Jennings)

As you seem to reflect back my own thoughts to me I can only believe we were
separated at birth as we are brother's in cynic-schism

Thanks for the critique, I will keep these things in mind.

Dale

And who in his correct mind could not be so flattered by such an
expulsion of pure sediment as to be unable to make rational reply? Not I.

I look forward to your exegesis (should this luck befall me) of any of my
future poems. And especially the ones that invoke (multiply) that metaphoric
organ of love: The heart.

Until then, I remain your passionate and earnest brother in cynic-schism
(and as sincere as ever),
Ray