Yesterday, 12:24 PM
(05-30-2026, 01:08 AM)Sean Puckett Wrote: At first, my apologies if my lack of critique skill is not at the level of others. I hope I’m not swimming out of my element. That being said, I’ve seen other references, but the “it’s” don’t bother me. This entire poem so interestingly pulls of a surreal string of memory. ‘It’s’ (see what I did there? Heh) structure forces the reader to take it very slowly or risk becoming derailed. But what’s excellent about it is that risk is near completely transformed when read aloud. Obviously poetry is the sort of thing to be read and spoken. But the choices of where to pause and what words to pause upon I like. All has a feeling of a mind remembering, a shaky contemplation. Also, “The hills were wearing drag again” is one of my favorite descriptors. Yes, the ending is great also. But I enjoyed that line on the hills and “My mind went radio” as one of the helpful ‘focusing’ descriptors to keep the reader into ‘familiar feeling’ territory. Grounding, in the middle of this stream. I hope it’s not too unhelpful on my end to not have any sort of negatives, or more ‘line by line’ type intensity. But when one genuinely enjoys the read, then re-read, then read aloud, what else could be said? I was extremely pleased being taken along for the ride.It's just as valuable to hear what works for readers, so thank you very kindly for taking the time to write these lovely notes <3
(05-30-2026, 07:57 PM)busker Wrote:These are great notes, very helpful; thanks so much. I'll have to think about that middle section; some people really love it, others feel as you do. This one's been iterated a fair bit and has now marinated for about a month... might need a little more time yet.(05-28-2026, 04:02 AM)matsunosuperfan Wrote: MiracleMatsun, greatly enjoyed reading this one. The last line alone makes it worthwhile
While driving to El Paso, I started seeing double. Now that there ... the opening works well, drawing the reader in. The seeing double foreshadows the marriage perhaps, but as a weak joke and this point never got resolved in the poem, at least it wasn't obvious to me
were twice as many cars, it was hard to focus, though the purple
mist hanging on everything deserves some blame. The hills were
wearing drag again: in San Francisco, even the fog spilling over ... these are some wonderful lines
your shoulder is florid, aggressively gay. I could see through them
like fata morgana. Exhausted, the world had become disembodied,
and in so doing placed me in terrible danger. Except for a Carl’s ... I like the little details, which make it a believable driving narrative
Jr’s pointed obscenity, there were no visible stars. I was sailing
deep into the beast’s dark, moonless belly. It was a beautiful night. ... the beast's belly is cliche, but moonless saves it
It should be less cliche for me to say my skull was full of beauty, or
that I found another fork of lighting in the road. The slumped rope ... the poem starts to meander after the fork of lightning
of a dead snake’s body disappeared before my headlights; it had just
been a branch. The lightning tore that oak in two, I said aloud, though
it was only me out there. It tried to get a good look at its heart, and
somehow in the process, poor fella lost a limb. Now you’re being
dramatic, I said, in a raspy voice I hardly recognized. I think that’s
really beautiful, a different voice replied. A new pair of black tassel ... the entire section in blue is doing too much. There's too much going on. The reader loses the thread of what you're trying to say. It does not advance the poem, only serves as a distraction. Keep the narrative, but make it simpler.
loafers smoldered in the trunk. My head felt radio. I kept driving.
Two days before the wedding, I take them out to try them on. We have
to stop at a cobbler’s to get the insteps widened. There's two parking
spots and both say HANDICAPPED. He takes one look at my duck ... the anecdote lands well. duck feet is a nice detail
feet, shakes his head, has a birthmark shaped like Texas, says I’ll give
you these for fifty. My best man laughs so hard he knocks over a pocket
square display. The air is briefly full of flowers. It’s you I’m marrying. ... perfect ending

