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	Posts: 8Threads: 4
 Joined: Jul 2013
 
	
	
		I:My lives are hidden under coats of paint,
 baby pink covered by graffiti,
 which was usurped by brown.
 Photos and memories aren’t enough for me.
 I hoard things like red, white, and blue
 confetti from Al Gore’s speech,
 receipts from In’n’Out, and leaves shaped like hearts.
 In the far left of my closet,
 a clear, unimaginative, sturdy box
 holds plane tickets to Ireland
 and letters from an ex’s mom.
 Six years condensed into one box.
 His stories about the wolves
 and poems with titles like
 “My Soul’s Heartbeat” and “My Better Tomorrow.”
 I kissed him one morning,
 ten hours after my mouth
 was on another man’s cock.
 Yet I still cried when I said
 I’m not in love with you anymore,
 and when I drove him
 out of my life to the airport.
 II:
 In this same room,
 with the brown walls and wood floors,
 I’m trying to hold onto sand,
 in love with a Teumessian Fox
 who first held my hand on sidewalks
 in Denver and played with my straightened
 hair in line at Calvin Klein.
 I bought two bras and four panties,
 and I keep the pair he tore off
 with our museum and movie stubs,
 and the flowers he stopped the car
 so I could run and grab
 in a solid, stylish red box
 purchased at a specialty store.
 When he curls into me,
 his head on my chest,
 legs and arms wrapped around me
 like a silk pashmina,
 I feel like I’m cradling the world.
 I want to go into his past
 and hold him as a child
 so he knows he’s rare and worthy and loved.
 
"What I thought was an end turned out to be a middle.What I thought was a brick wall turned out to be a tunnel."
 --Tony Hoagland
 
 "In this world where classification is key,
 I want to erase the straight lines
 So I can be me."
 --Staceyann Chinn
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 848Threads: 232
 Joined: Oct 2012
 
	
	
		I consider it a privilege to look inside someone's box and we all have them, with you we get two for the price of one and then some, you have some delightful lines that get lost in lesser lines that don't add very much. My advice would be to take out what's not adding any value, think about sonic devices such as assonance and alliteration and try to build something into the lines. I have added some comments below, Cheers Keith  (10-22-2013, 05:53 AM)EmilyJune519 Wrote:  I:My lives are hidden under coats of paint, solid opening I'm hooked but could be shorter with sonics (lives hide)
 baby pink covered by graffiti,
 which was usurped by brown. wordy, do you need which was ?
 Photos and memories aren’t enough for me.
 I hoard things like red, white, and blue
 confetti from Al Gore’s speech,
 receipts from In’n’Out, and leaves shaped like hearts. I don't know what In'n'out is could be dropped unless personal ?it would give sonic REceipts and LEaves
 In the far left of my closet,
 a clear, unimaginative, sturdy box
 holds plane tickets to Ireland
 and letters from an ex’s mom.
 Six years condensed into one box.
 His stories about the wolves
 and poems with titles like
 “My Soul’s Heartbeat” and “My Better Tomorrow.”
 I kissed him one morning,
 ten hours after my mouth
 was on another man’s cock.
 Yet I still cried when I said
 I’m not in love with you anymore,
 and when I drove him
 out of my life to the airport. The previous 4 lines really need paring back. You lose the very good, stark image in obvious lines that don't tell me any more
 II:
 In this same room,
 with the brown walls and wood floors,
 I’m trying to hold onto sand, I would start here we know its the II box already
 in love with a Teumessian Fox
 who first held my hand on sidewalks
 in Denver and played with my straightened
 hair in line at Calvin Klein. Yeh for the assonance
 I bought two bras and four panties,
 and I keep the pair he tore off no need for and
 with our museum and movie stubs, nice link from tore off to ticket stubs
 and the flowers he stopped the car could car be cab to pick up the grab ?
 so I could run and grab
 in a solid, stylish red box
 purchased at a specialty store. something feels off here could be the jump to him assuming hes not in the box you could split the stanza
 When he curls into me,
 his head on my chest,
 legs and arms wrapped around me
 like a silk pashmina,
 I feel like I’m cradling the world.
 I want to go into his past
 and hold him as a child
 so he knows he’s rare and worthy and loved. some great lines here that if cut back will really shine.
 
Very much enjoyed and I would really like to read the edit. Best Keith
	
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 2,602Threads: 303
 Joined: Feb 2017
 
	
	
		 (10-22-2013, 05:53 AM)EmilyJune519 Wrote:  Emily,Hi emily,please read end note first.
 tectak
 
 I:
 My lives are hidden under coats of paint,
 baby pink covered by graffiti,
 which was usurped by brown. "which was" is profligate. It makes you add a line. Just make L2 "baby pink covered by graffiti, usurped by brown". Less is more
 Photos and memories aren’t enough for me.
 I hoard things like red, white, and blue "Like" is superfluous and starts a silly simile. What is "like" red,white and blue? Orange,grey and turquoise? Leave out "like".
 confetti from Al Gore’s speech,
 receipts from In’n’Out, and leaves shaped like hearts. This "list" like all coma seperated lists, often benefits from the dropping of the closing "and". Its ommission creates a sense of open-ended pensiveness. Your poem.
 In the far left of my closet,
 a clear, unimaginative, sturdy box possibly over-modified. Unimaginative is a very big word to describe nothing at all.
 holds plane tickets to Ireland A disconnect. In the far left of my closet...holds plane tickets.
 "In the far left of my closet,
 is a clear, plain, sturdy box,
 holding plane tickets to Ireland..."
 and letters from an ex’s mom.
 Six years condensed into one box. box box
 His stories about the wolves
 and poems with titles like
 “My Soul’s Heartbeat” and “My Better Tomorrow.”
 I kissed him one morning,
 ten hours after my mouth
 was on another man’s cock.
 Yet I still cried when I said
 I’m not in love with you anymore,
 and when I drove him
 out of my life to the airport.
 II:
 In this same room,
 with the brown walls and wood floors,
 I’m trying to hold onto sand,
 in love with a Teumessian Fox
 who first held my hand on sidewalks
 in Denver and played with my straightened
 hair in line at Calvin Klein.
 I bought two bras and four panties,
 and I keep the pair he tore off
 with our museum and movie stubs, tore off with our museum? I shot an elephant in my pyjamas
 and the flowers he stopped the car Some punctuation after flowers, surely?
 so I could run and grab
 in a solid, stylish red box box box box
 purchased at a specialty store.
 When he curls into me,
 his head on my chest,
 legs and arms wrapped around me
 like a silk pashmina,
 I feel like I’m cradling the world.
 I want to go into his past
 and hold him as a child
 so he knows he’s rare and worthy and loved.
 This is quite wonderful. Concept captivating. It seems almost blasphemous to tinker with it, but there are some nits. Nits. That's all.
 I read the whole piece out loud, intending to do so several times, but the stumbles were there on a first read.
 I want to be clear. A line by line is not justified...it is good enough. I do it because it is easier, that's all.
 Very best,
 tectak
 
		
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