We'll Always Have Location B

[Ryzenfall]

This is an unfinished piece that I'm experimenting with. It's basically my account in verse of the life with the staff I got to know over the past several months. any feedback is appreciated.

I remember our first collection.
We collected ourselves wearing band-aid smiles
Over throbbing scrapes of reticence
And excitement, the involuntary risk.
We played a game where you join
The called-out limb to your partners’;
And Chelsea asked if I was in a pair
Because she is brave.
I shook my head, and we did alright
But no one could kiss at that time, making
The shy-born three way tie.

We ran to the collecting room
Elias and I, always late, cursing the hill
We had to climb, every Ray Ban afternoon.
The backs of heads glared at us
Like painted stones on Indian land.
We’d slowly turn them over; we turned for them
Being sacred strangers in the dirt.
That day we learned
A game of tag using long water foam.
Jacob leapt over the fence that night
And chased Chris with the whip
Because he knew him before.
We all ran toward names we already knew
And I didn’t do much running then.

I remember waking
Packing bags for the private locale;
Jig-sawing them into compact trunks,
Which had more room still than our cabin space
Sold-out seats, all gaps filled in, like promenade-
Bound limousine vibrations.
Haley asked, whose someone we want to know better
So Kelly, with a smile, threw out a few
And Chris knew his answer.
I said Christian, because people thought we were friends
But it wasn’t yet true.
We pointed out the odd shaped buildings,
How they didn’t seem like they should fit,
Yet spoke a kind of purpose.

Orange hands caressed the hilltop church
Through the Mist: her feet on the valley floor
As flocks circled round her billowing heads.
The room past the steeple held us in warmth
As the bosom of a grandelder oak
Or the scarred palms of Glory.
The remarks we made were lost in the height:
While the wooden roof held our balloon cordiality.
First we learned how to laugh, collected;
As Andrei walked on all fours and lolled his tongue
And Steven became a two minute queen.
Emerging clowns with no slip-on colors
Save for our breaking skin.

Pods hang, long black seeds,
And watch with the rocks, along the cliffside
Where we pray and unmake our noise,
Returning to collect again, prepared for nothing.
Step forward if you were born in this state.
-Nine to twelve.
Step forward if your parents have parted.
-Too many.
Step forward if someone you love hurt you.
-I hear the snapping of strings.
Step forward if you’ve ever felt alone.
-Everyone.
I thought about Nick, him being away
And how even he’d have stepped,
How we all would, knowing this covert curse
But daily played the fool.

Stories the alien voices told
Began to sound some like my own.
Foreign fingers caught my hands
Because they understood
Or because somehow, they gave a solid damn
And weren’t going home till they let me know.
Stephanie said I’m glad you’re here.
Through her fever, Hannah heard our tales
Until each group reformed to the ring;
And a mute circus raged in the center space.

Ashley said it was different this time
Her veteran ribs still harbored a glowing.
Hoping that we’d might become some place
Like home, Arek shared losses, ripped from the chest.
Rebecca confessed she felt too safe to be held;
And for our scars we kept warm, held something like envy
Like a cancer kid in a trauma hospice
Where nurses’ eyes read only spilled red.
Bursting kernels: we emptied our soil.
Katie, like a cordless bale of wheat,
She wasn’t at first going to say a word
But someone she loved hurt her
-And we all stepped forward
We trampled the circus of metal walls
Drawn to her half empty cracking glass
Like a planet pull.
With arms like rope, firmly laced, we spoke with God
Out loud, without being told.
And our insides gave without being told.
I felt the keen crochet of seraph arrows,
Threading pure vows, soaked in time,
Lifting us on the mend.

I remember the shore
In vivid Holga tones
Like a polaroid of a bulwark rise
Grass slopes and sandblock tiers
Dove-swooping to the far low breaks.
The ocean flaunting its wind chime glister-
Each Milky Way star bathing in the waves.
We dipped our heels in the cold
Shuddering at the tide’s receding wrath
Delighted by odd life in shallow craters
But mostly that new closeness
Forged in warm tears and a holy fire
Then set, thrust beneath gelid pools.
I took a picture of Sneha holding the starfish
And we all left, wishing a hundred things.

The grass was dark when our cars pulled in
Parking lots glad for us.
I stood in the silent line
Making up a hand motion language
With Felicia, single file.
It was late but we felt no ghost
Of sleep, fatigue, or need for proof.
We collected behind the blind circle
Made of candlelight.
When you are called
Pick just three or four people
By giving them a touch
Who stood out to you, regarding what I read.
The first four were chosen as the rest of us
Closed our eyes, most already content.
There is quiet, there is shuffling of feet.
Dustin says “Someone who made you laugh.”
I can almost hear the smiles
As the room becomes light.
Tiffany says “A friend you’ve met who you didn’t know before.”
An awareness of undeserved
Privilege becomes staggering.
“Someone you consider wise.”
Soon I am called up, and I break the limit
Because I must.
After everyone has gone and we blow out the lights
There isn’t much that I feel I need…

A modest auditorium
Was a workshop for hearts
Incognito, looking back.
Our caffeine twilight operations
Propelled and crawled, while invisible instruments
Took their time.
Everybody watched the Kevins dance.
The back row moved as big as the first.
Most nights we challenged the cold
With body heat and progress
Until it was as though we could
Progress no more,
And every step was drawn in our marrow.
I knew the toe touch
And the Indian run
Or what have you,
But I didn’t know a word about Nick
Except that he was from San Jose;
I hadn’t learned
That Tracy seemed quiet
Only because I hadn’t given her
The time to speak.

We stirred on the brink of a disc earth
Facing toward ghost horizons
Our backs to their mirror image of oblivion
A nervous navy on the edge of the world
Slowly casting nets becoming blithe over wine.
...

[The Personist]

Holy long post. When you say verse, do you mean metric forms (iambs/dactyls/anapests/what have you), or do you mean it in a more general, less syllable-counting sense?

[Ryzenfall]

Holy long post. When you say verse, do you mean metric forms (iambs/dactyls/anapests/what have you), or do you mean it in a more general, less syllable-counting sense?

I mean it as in a more general, i-don't-know-what-the-hell-this-is-but-it-sure-ain't-straight-prose-or-journalism sense.

[nkalldayyy]

first of all, I just have to say that the commitment in this piece really shines through. I'm not sure if you wrote it all at once or over time, but i found it compelling that for the most part you kept the same tone and feeling throughout.


This is an unfinished piece that I'm experimenting with. It's basically my account in verse of the life with the staff I got to know over the past several months. any feedback is appreciated.

I remember our first collection.
We collected ourselves wearing band-aid smiles
Over throbbing scrapes of reticence
And excitement, the involuntary risk.
We played a game where you join
The called-out limb to your partners’;
And Chelsea asked if I was in a pair
Because she is brave.
I shook my head, and we did alright
But no one could kiss at that time, making
The shy-born three way tie.

I thought the way you use two different forms of the word "collect" in the first two lines was really clever. I also liked how you kept this theme of "collecting" throughout, even though the meaning of it was a bit ambiguous to me.
The last five lines are so are worded really well, even though i didn't understand fully what you meant by the last line. It all flowed really well.


We ran to the collecting room
Elias and I, always late, cursing the hill
We had to climb, every Ray Ban afternoon.
The backs of heads glared at us
Like painted stones on Indian land.
We’d slowly turn them over; we turned for them
Being sacred strangers in the dirt.
That day we learned
A game of tag using long water foam.
Jacob leapt over the fence that night
And chased Chris with the whip
Because he knew him before.
We all ran toward names we already knew
And I didn’t do much running then.

"being sacred strangers in the dirt" really stood out for me. I really like the meaning behind that paring of words.
I wasn't sure what to think about the line about the whip thing, but because it stood out so much after thinking about it I thought it might have meant something on the lines of being about not wanting to be faced with his past.
also, the last two lines are really beautifully thought out and kind of stuck with me in a way, through the rest of the poem.


I remember waking
Packing bags for the private locale;
Jig-sawing them into compact trunks,
Which had more room still than our cabin space
Sold-out seats, all gaps filled in, like promenade-
Bound limousine vibrations.
Haley asked, whose someone we want to know better
So Kelly, with a smile, threw out a few
And Chris knew his answer.
I said Christian, because people thought we were friends
But it wasn’t yet true.
We pointed out the odd shaped buildings,
How they didn’t seem like they should fit,
Yet spoke a kind of purpose.

The third line is really clever, following into the fourth.
What confused me a bit about this verse was that it made you think about the possible setting of the poem but it had me in between ball park, wedding, and prom, because of the limosine and sold out seats. but none of them really corresponded with the idea of packing bags. so I wasn't really sure if you wanted the reader to know where they were going or just for them to know that they were going somewhere.

again, the last few lines totally work. you have a real affinity for pulling the verses together.


Orange hands caressed the hilltop church
Through the Mist: her feet on the valley floor
As flocks circled round her billowing heads.
The room past the steeple held us in warmth
As the bosom of a grandelder oak
Or the scarred palms of Glory.
The remarks we made were lost in the height:
While the wooden roof held our balloon cordiality.
First we learned how to laugh, collected;
As Andrei walked on all fours and lolled his tongue
And Steven became a two minute queen.
Emerging clowns with no slip-on colors
Save for our breaking skin.

I love this verse. All of the imagery really works, from the bit about the orange hands (i assumed was a play on word about the sky and God, because of it being a church,) to how you used collected again, to the very last line. One of my favorite verses so far.


Pods hang, long black seeds,
And watch with the rocks, along the cliffside
Where we pray and unmake our noise,
Returning to collect again, prepared for nothing.
Step forward if you were born in this state.
-Nine to twelve.
Step forward if your parents have parted.
-Too many.
Step forward if someone you love hurt you.
-I hear the snapping of strings.
Step forward if you’ve ever felt alone.
-Everyone.
I thought about Nick, him being away
And how even he’d have stepped,
How we all would, knowing this covert curse
But daily played the fool.

I liked what you did here with the lines that are dashed but I kind of wished you would have introduced the format earlier to prepare the reader for it because it felt it a bit out of place. I like what the lines mean though, and how they tie in with the idea of some of the ideas you mentioned, like with the questions some of the "characters" you named asked. also because everyone seemed to be a little "reticence" as you called it so far, but it helps me as the reader see you as having more of an opinion and not just being a narrative character.
another thing I picked up on that i liked was how you knew just what to say about each character so that it kind of helped the reader feel like it could be someone they know, and not feel like the poem was more of a personal, inside, thing.


Stories the alien voices told
Began to sound some like my own.
Foreign fingers caught my hands
Because they understood
Or because somehow, they gave a solid damn
And weren’t going home till they let me know.
Stephanie said I’m glad you’re here.
Through her fever, Hannah heard our tales
Until each group reformed to the ring;
And a mute circus raged in the center space.

this is a nice transition from the last verse. it made me feel like maybe you were at some kind of meeting, like everyone had something in common, but then it got more personal and kind of ridded itself of that idea, which i thought was for the best.


Ashley said it was different this time
Her veteran ribs still harbored a glowing.
Hoping that we’d might become some place
Like home, Arek shared losses, ripped from the chest.
Rebecca confessed she felt too safe to be held;
And for our scars we kept warm, held something like envy
Like a cancer kid in a trauma hospice
Where nurses’ eyes read only spilled red.
Bursting kernels: we emptied our soil.
Katie, like a cordless bale of wheat,
She wasn’t at first going to say a word
But someone she loved hurt her
-And we all stepped forward
We trampled the circus of metal walls
Drawn to her half empty cracking glass
Like a planet pull.
With arms like rope, firmly laced, we spoke with God
Out loud, without being told.
And our insides gave without being told.
I felt the keen crochet of seraph arrows,
Threading pure vows, soaked in time,
Lifting us on the mend.

I don't particularly like the line "spilled red" because I honestly think (reading the rest of this) that you can word what you're trying to say better. I liked how you included the line "-and we all stepped forward" because it helped tie the verse before the last in with the rest of the poem.
from the line "with arms like rope..." to the end of the verse is really well written and felt very real. It's definitely one of my favorite parts of the poem.


I remember the shore
In vivid Holga tones
Like a polaroid of a bulwark rise
Grass slopes and sandblock tiers
Dove-swooping to the far low breaks.
The ocean flaunting its wind chime glister-
Each Milky Way star bathing in the waves.
We dipped our heels in the cold
Shuddering at the tide’s receding wrath
Delighted by odd life in shallow craters
But mostly that new closeness
Forged in warm tears and a holy fire
Then set, thrust beneath gelid pools.
I took a picture of Sneha holding the starfish
And we all left, wishing a hundred things.

I LOVE this verse. personally, the imagery really, really gets to me. it's written so delicately, especially the line about the milky way stars, the line forth from the bottom, and the very last line. it's a very memorable verse.


The grass was dark when our cars pulled in
Parking lots glad for us.
I stood in the silent line
Making up a hand motion language
With Felicia, single file.
It was late but we felt no ghost
Of sleep, fatigue, or need for proof.
We collected behind the blind circle
Made of candlelight.
When you are called
Pick just three or four people
By giving them a touch
Who stood out to you, regarding what I read.
The first four were chosen as the rest of us
Closed our eyes, most already content.
There is quiet, there is shuffling of feet.
Dustin says “Someone who made you laugh.”
I can almost hear the smiles
As the room becomes light.
Tiffany says “A friend you’ve met who you didn’t know before.”
An awareness of undeserved
Privilege becomes staggering.
“Someone you consider wise.”
Soon I am called up, and I break the limit
Because I must.
After everyone has gone and we blow out the lights
There isn’t much that I feel I need…

I don't quite understand where you were going with the last four lines. It kind of left me wondering.


A modest auditorium
Was a workshop for hearts
Incognito, looking back.
Our caffeine twilight operations
Propelled and crawled, while invisible instruments
Took their time.
Everybody watched the Kevins dance.
The back row moved as big as the first.
Most nights we challenged the cold
With body heat and progress
Until it was as though we could
Progress no more,
And every step was drawn in our marrow.
I knew the toe touch
And the Indian run
Or what have you,
But I didn’t know a word about Nick
Except that he was from San Jose;
I hadn’t learned
That Tracy seemed quiet
Only because I hadn’t given her
The time to speak.

I liked the beginning but it made me think that maybe you were talking about an emergency room, with the auditorium and the instruments. The ending was really thoughtful but I didn't much understand the part in the middle.


We stirred on the brink of a disc earth
Facing toward ghost horizons
Our backs to their mirror image of oblivion
A nervous navy on the edge of the world
Slowly casting nets becoming blithe over wine.
...

I don't want to critique this part because you said it's unfinished and I don't want to try to pull meaning out of something that might not be one hundred percent there yet.

as a whole, this piece had amazing imagery and was really worth the 20 minutes it took me to read it, lol. I enjoyed it and it actually made me want to read it again and again. It really doesn't need much more than a solid ending. Its really well written and make sure you let me know when you post the finished version because i'd really like to read it!

:-)

[Ryzenfall]

:-)

wow, thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts on this. I realize it's probably confusing. I've decided to not think about my audience with this piece otherwise I'd worry about having to make it relatable to everyone in the world, and I felt it would take away from me expressing memories and feelings I had accurately if I had that universal accessibility hanging over me. So thanks for being willing to take a look into this story without knowing the backstory.

A lot of the things you said you didn't understand were because they were events that happened. For example, the "shy-born three way tie" was when that game ended when the leader called out "lip to lip" on the icebreaker game and the three remaining pairs all ran to each other and ended up not wanting to kiss, and so it was declared a draw between those three. So it's possible to come to that conclusion, but I certainly didn't expect anyone to.
That part that left you wondering, i kind of explained what happened in the stanza, but when it was my turn to be one of the four who tapped people on the head when a phrase was called like "choose someone who you felt listened to you" I couldn't stop at just three or four people ("the limit"). And then when it was all done, somebody plugged in an ipod and "My Girls" by Animal Collective was the first song to come on shuffle, so the last line is a reference from that.

I appreciate you saying that the personal interjections helped you as the reader relate. I wasn't sure about that, but I'm solely writing from what is going on in my head as I recall these events, and obviously my own opinions, etc. are included so I had to put them there regardless.

David The Personist is going to taze me for explaining what those meant, but ah do what ah wawnt. I'm going to be constantly revising this though, so thanks for the input.

[The Personist]

Explaining it is OK; however, getting mad when I interpret things differently is not. Death of the author, bitch!

<3

[Ryzenfall]

Explaining it is OK; however, getting mad when I interpret things differently is not. Death of the author, bitch!

<3

AUTOMATED RESPONSE: Username [Ryzenfall] has died.




















Bitch.

[nkalldayyy]

wow, thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts on this. I realize it's probably confusing. I've decided to not think about my audience with this piece otherwise I'd worry about having to make it relatable to everyone in the world, and I felt it would take away from me expressing memories and feelings I had accurately if I had that universal accessibility hanging over me. So thanks for being willing to take a look into this story without knowing the backstory.

A lot of the things you said you didn't understand were because they were events that happened. For example, the "shy-born three way tie" was when that game ended when the leader called out "lip to lip" on the icebreaker game and the three remaining pairs all ran to each other and ended up not wanting to kiss, and so it was declared a draw between those three. So it's possible to come to that conclusion, but I certainly didn't expect anyone to.
That part that left you wondering, i kind of explained what happened in the stanza, but when it was my turn to be one of the four who tapped people on the head when a phrase was called like "choose someone who you felt listened to you" I couldn't stop at just three or four people ("the limit"). And then when it was all done, somebody plugged in an ipod and "My Girls" by Animal Collective was the first song to come on shuffle, so the last line is a reference from that.

I appreciate you saying that the personal interjections helped you as the reader relate. I wasn't sure about that, but I'm solely writing from what is going on in my head as I recall these events, and obviously my own opinions, etc. are included so I had to put them there regardless.

David The Personist is going to taze me for explaining what those meant, but ah do what ah wawnt. I'm going to be constantly revising this though, so thanks for the input.
cool. I think it's awesome that you're writing solely for the purpose of getting your feelings/experiences out there and not to try to please everyone who reads it.

keep at it.

[The Personist]

Art that doesn't please people is worthless. Edited for drunkenness.

[Ryzenfall]

Art that doesn't please people is worthless. Edited for drunkenness.

Hmm. Cite your source. This interests me. I think I agree on many accounts.

[The Personist]

Hmm. Cite your source. This interests me. I think I agree on many accounts.
Well, I tend to (somewhat) agree with Oscar Wilde, who said "All art is quite useless." That is to say, art is essentially impractical and irrational at its core. However, he is obsessed with beauty, and he says that if you make something truly beautiful it will transcend "art" and speak to people and move them. I sort of take Wilde's aesthetics and combine them with O'Hara's Personism and Ashbery's idea that poetry should above all delight the reader, and that's where I get my ideas.

[Ryzenfall]

Added stanzas (as if you needed them):

Shuffling, fugitive moments
Leagues of people, gurgles collect
The sound of incubated invention
Just before it’s debut
Like an iron vice
Of warm epinephrine.
We step onstage impulsively feeling
More immortal than usual.
Lights explode, the sound keeps pace
And we pay no attention to the men
Behind the boards.
We move as if we were
Calculated, like a single
Jazzy equation.
The Toe Touch.
We funnel oceans through pipes
Forcing elated animation
Through our just one chance.
The Indian Run.
Finally the routine is
Archived, just like that.
The voices of the hidden
Seal the memory
In a bright ecstatic resonance.
And we all knew, that
win or lose
That chapter closed with
Happy endings.

I remember the old spring
The year ending and the air
Struggling to express its ardor
With just the heated breeze,
As Time smoked acid clouds
While his Minutes caught the second hand
Then grasping, watched it swift away.
Such high disorientation
Of our final collections,
Tripping and ballooning
Festivals of sentiment.
Conductions of meeting for meals
As if that were enough.
The meeting in halls
In brisk-to-stalled passing
As if we didn’t expect them.
We saw the approaching Distance
And we wanted everything
While completely content
There was nothing that was not ours;
Nothing we could not ask for.
Reluctant, excited, we flew waving hands
All along that final week
Climbing into the wombs of jets
And the morphing summer hours
Uncollected.

[Ryzenfall]

Simulating future collections on a modest coast
Where smoke tastes the sky each night
From fires beneath like worldwar trenches
Fernando and I sit above cobbley waves
And I listen to him formulate
Abridged and unrelenting tragedy
One upon the next, like windblown tide.
I do not feel like a father
Or someone wise, just a sponge
Taking in the bitter apple blood
And waiting for the wine in time
Made sweet by oaths and hindsight.
We return to the fires
A circle of song, and our swimming daydreams
We bottle sand as a finger string
Planting quiet vows in the crackling night.

After several weeks
Even days
Or perhaps all along
The stale impotency of wires
Is acutely exposed.
Faces fade like battered magnets
I hum stunted songs as I paint my walls
As I tile the floor
As I tame the mountain yard
Or read print fiction
Letting the Absence soak through me.
I toss the string and tin can
Over hemispheres and pace
In circles across the collections of days
That bleed into each other
Like bruised mango casualties in a weathervane.
While Tiffany shuffled notes with our names
On every page with no breaks
And the distance leering inches away.
To drifting islands from a broken continent,
Demons sweep on cue
And heaven speaks in the open space
But I step along the days
Fingers on keys
Of a robot computer type and speak.

Returning to a whalebone shell
Of our institute of little homes
Through a streamer’d door
Into a dimly lit collection
Of brightly lit expressions we
Haven’t beheld in what was surely
Miniature ages.
The champagne rhythms and grinning beats
Urged us into our arms
In succession
I remember the relative ease
And how openness
Became intuition.
Lies about my handicap
Of finding companions
How I had none and never would
Were softly slain
By Mackenzie’s constant smile
That can stir strength from bone
And Kelsey’s giving eyes
That herald worth.
When stars collide, they make new colors fly
I believe we can say that we know the feeling.

Another mystery location
To guess and to invest hope
In secret and in en route banter.
The road fork split between
Complacent closeness
Like silver linked chains
Or forging our iron rings into
A single baton, placed in the running
Hands of God.
We stirred on the brink of a disc earth
Facing ghost horizons
Our backs to their mirror image of oblivion
A nervous navy on the edge of the world
Slowly casting nets becoming blithe over wine.
Vanessa didn’t laugh at our jokes
But she still tried for a valiant while.
Giovanni and I would gaze off the balcony
Over glowing pools, like perfect neon accidents
We’d talk about the joke of bedtime, like
Old veterans trading tales of young risk
And the minutes sown to this new field of family
Then I knew we chose uniting fire
Or Someone chose it for us.

Some are fond to convene and plot
Over maps and graphs, feeling
Important in their conference collections.
But I knew we didn’t care about that
We just wanted to charge the fields
Though even Christ at a heinous sight
Stopped to weave a whip
Before wrecking the temple thieving den.
So we sat to chart our courses
And we took heed because
When you are the front line, you listen keen.
All our outlining spilled
Into side street talks and
Scenic route dialogue.
Rachelle trusted the good things
So we let the stories circulate.
We talked to Kathy about how she speaks
And how everyone sounds funny
Somewhere on this finger-painted world.

Back in our home halls and the modest
Heart workshop, our minds became instruments
To build an opus from scratch and
Culture scraps, fresh and friendly.
I’d sit with Nick and Matthew each
Night in the middle of the hall
Phoenixing our stale ideas into
Something like comic gold
Until we started babbling like drunks
Who’s ducks-in-a-row scattered ages ago.
And Nicole would tell us madness
Like ways to eat fruit snacks with panache,
Second winds and epiphanies waiting
After half-confused hysterical fits were done.
Andy would tighten the loose screws
Sometimes building walls himself
Not for applause but that we could have a standing house.
We’d gather by the stage, wide-minded
Stealing breath with our antics
After every jocular anecdote
Crucial to the last man and corner.

Days creep close, like whispered wolves
And finally our final night
Held us in hourglass arms
Slipping us out of its grip
Into well invested destiny.
And I dreamt about faces I’ve never seen
Washed out by sun and blurred scenery
Until All I Have shakes me out of my sheets
And I watch my limbs move on their own.
In the morning air is hidden some kind
Of promise, and through the cold
I try catching it with conscious purpose.
Our soles creak across the polished floor
As we collect our costumes in tired silence
Then walk to designated rooms preparing
For the arrival of new community.
We dance our newly composed masquerade
That already feels ages old, one last time.
Costumes slip on, doors unlock, we sit behind the curtain
To the subtle bedlam of murmuring.
Our film plays, then we play the stage
And Becky saves Nick from breaking a leg
We rise to the ovation and escape
As moving pictures take our place
In the kind of line that we could stand in
For all our not so natural lives.

[TK]

Shit...I'll definitely have to get to this tomorrow. Haha.

[Ryzenfall]

Shit...I'll definitely have to get to this tomorrow. Haha.

Haha. Thank you sir. You are a bonafide trooper.

[TK]

I've started on critiquing each stanza so I can do one of two things:

1) Keep critiquing until I've done the whole poem and then post my critique

or

2) Post the sections in groups after I've done some of them

Because I don't think I'll be able to get to all of this in detail by the end of the week.

[TK]

I remember our first collection.
We collected ourselves wearing band-aid smiles
Over throbbing scrapes of reticence
And excitement, the involuntary risk.
We played a game where you join
The called-out limb to your partners’;
And Chelsea asked if I was in a pair
Because she is brave.
I shook my head, and we did alright
But no one could kiss at that time, making
The shy-born three way tie.

Initially, collection/collected sounds like it is being overused and doesn’t really help the flow. Could you maybe replace “collected” with a different verb like compose or something? I like what I think you’re saying in the 5th and 6th lines, but I definitely feel like you can articulate the 6th line so that it’s clearer and easier understood. The following two lines I believe are correct with the tenses, but it sounds awkward to me to hear “asked if I was in a pair because she is” especially since the rest of the stanza is in past tense. Also, in the 9th line, the part “and we did alright” seems very rough and unpolished to me. I’m a fan of you’re writing and it’s weird to read so blunt statements and simple lines coming from you. Overall, I think this stanza can definitely be improved by a more enticing beginning and by fixing up the middle parts.


We ran to the collecting room
Elias and I, always late, cursing the hill
We had to climb, every Ray Ban afternoon.
The backs of heads glared at us
Like painted stones on Indian land.
We’d slowly turn them over; we turned for them
Being sacred strangers in the dirt.
That day we learned
A game of tag using long water foam.
Jacob leapt over the fence that night
And chased Chris with the whip
Because he knew him before.
We all ran toward names we already knew
And I didn’t do much running then.
Again, I see some form of “collection”. Is this on purpose? I liked the line “Cursing the hill we had to climb”, although I feel like it might support itself better if it was in a line by itself? But that’s just my opinion. The 4th and 5th lines seem to offer the first spark of this piece for me that had me interested, although I think the simile falls a little flat by itself but improves in the following two lines. Also, I’d like to see something else replace “using long water foam”. The line seems so set up for a metaphor of some sorts after the previous lines and I was disappointed there wasn’t one. Again though, this is just all my opinion on what I prefer in writings; I love metaphors haha. Now let’s get back to the piece. The 12th line in this stanza is just bad. It seems so stale, so awkward, so useless in the context it was used. I like the thought of the last two lines, but again, it seems very rough. Maybe it could be “We all ran towards names we already knew, But I never did do much running before then”. This is just a suggestion because I’m sort of lost on what the second line is suppose to imply, so elaboration and clearer wording could help make those lines really solid ones.


I remember waking
Packing bags for the private locale;
Jig-sawing them into compact trunks,
Which had more room still than our cabin space
5Sold-out seats, all gaps filled in, like promenade-
Bound limousine vibrations.
Haley asked, whose someone we want to know better
So Kelly, with a smile, threw out a few
And Chris knew his answer.
I said Christian, because people thought we were friends
But it wasn’t yet true.
We pointed out the odd shaped buildings,
How they didn’t seem like they should fit,
Yet spoke a kind of purpose.

I’m sort of annoyed by intrigued at the same time by the first two lines. What exactly are you describing with “walking packing bags”? Like, suitcases that have wheels on them and you’re taking it to their cars? I love the third line, although I feel like still is misplaced in the fourth line. Would it not work better placing “still” before “had”? The following lines are okay, but again, I find it weird how you place your adverb in the 11th verse in this stanza. Personally, I think it sounds a lot better if “yet” comes after true. The last three lines are good, but again, I feel like you can say it in a more descriptive, vaguer way instead of being so direct. Although it sort of appears you’re going for the direct approach and if that’s the case, ignore me?


Orange hands caressed the hilltop church
Through the Mist: her feet on the valley floor
3As flocks circled round her billowing heads.
The room past the steeple held us in warmth
5As the bosom of a grandelder oak
Or the scarred palms of Glory.
The remarks we made were lost in the height:
While the wooden roof held our balloon cordiality.
First we learned how to laugh, collected;
As Andrei walked on all fours and lolled his tongue
And Steven became a two minute queen.
Emerging clowns with no slip-on colors
Save for our breaking skin.

Wow. WOW. This is has such a different style and feel to it than the previous stanzas. I like the change a lot, but the 4th-6th lines need work. I don’t understand them. You use “The room past the steeple held us in warmth as the bosom of a grandelder oak or the scarred palms of glory” and by using “as” it implies another verb, correct? I don’t really have anything to complain about with the rest of this stanza though, it was pretty solid.

Pods hang, long black seeds,
And watch with the rocks, along the cliffside
Where we pray and unmake our noise,
Returning to collect again, prepared for nothing.
Step forward if you were born in this state.
-Nine to twelve.
Step forward if your parents have parted.
-Too many.
Step forward if someone you love hurt you.
-I hear the snapping of strings.
Step forward if you’ve ever felt alone.
-Everyone.
I thought about Nick, him being away
And how even he’d have stepped,
How we all would, knowing this covert curse
But daily played the fool.

The first four lines are excellent and the way you use “collect” here seems natural and seems to fit with the rest of the poem very well. However, I’m not sure how I feel about the lines that follow. It seems sort of cliché and unoriginal to me with the 2nd and 4th “step forward” bits, but I did like the imagery in the third. The rest is okay, although I think the last two lines could be tweaked to help clear up the meaning.


Stories the alien voices told
Began to sound some like my own.
Foreign fingers caught my hands
Because they understood
Or because somehow, they gave a solid damn
And weren’t going home till they let me know.
Stephanie said I’m glad you’re here.
Through her fever, Hannah heard our tales
Until each group reformed to the ring;
And a mute circus raged in the center space.

I think the second line would work a lot better if it was “somewhat like my own” I liked the foreign fingers part, but the rest was just kind of bland to me. It wasn’t bad, but nothing stuck out or left an impression.


Ashley said it was different this time
Her veteran ribs still harbored a glowing.
Hoping that we’d might become some place
Like home, Arek shared losses, ripped from the chest.
Rebecca confessed she felt too safe to be held;
And for our scars we kept warm, held something like envy
Like a cancer kid in a trauma hospice
Where nurses’ eyes read only spilled red.
Bursting kernels: we emptied our soil.
Katie, like a cordless bale of wheat,
She wasn’t at first going to say a word
But someone she loved hurt her
-And we all stepped forward
We trampled the circus of metal walls
Drawn to her half empty cracking glass
Like a planet pull.
With arms like rope, firmly laced, we spoke with God
Out loud, without being told.
And our insides gave without being told.
I felt the keen crochet of seraph arrows,
Threading pure vows, soaked in time,
Lifting us on the mend.

I don’t like the second and fourth lines here. It seems like you’re either trying to hard or you again are leaving the reader out on something. On rereading, I like the second line more, but I still dislike your lack of pronoun usage in the fourth line; it sounds unnatural to me. I loved the line ‘she felt too safe to be held”. It wasn’t anything fantastic, but it seemed so genuine and honest and relatable. I feel like the cancer part can be cut completely as it doesn’t do much for the stanza. I like the last lines, good job on those.


I remember the shore
In vivid Holga tones
Like a polaroid of a bulwark rise
Grass slopes and sandblock tiers
Dove-swooping to the far low breaks.
The ocean flaunting its wind chime glister-
Each Milky Way star bathing in the waves.
We dipped our heels in the cold
Shuddering at the tide’s receding wrath
Delighted by odd life in shallow craters
But mostly that new closeness
Forged in warm tears and a holy fire
Then set, thrust beneath gelid pools.
I took a picture of Sneha holding the starfish
And we all left, wishing a hundred things.


God I love the opening lines so much, I just was really hoping for tiers to be tides because the rhyme seem so natural and then I realized I misread it. Still, this is by the far the best I’ve read in this so far and the imagery is amazing. I really like it. This whole stanza is amazing, I really do love it. It’s great in my opinion, for whatever amount of pennies that’s worth. Well done sir.


The grass was dark when our cars pulled in
Parking lots glad for us.
I stood in the silent line
Making up a hand motion language
With Felicia, single file.
It was late but we felt no ghost
Of sleep, fatigue, or need for proof.
We collected behind the blind circle
Made of candlelight.
When you are called
Pick just three or four people
By giving them a touch
Who stood out to you, regarding what I read.
The first four were chosen as the rest of us
Closed our eyes, most already content.
There is quiet, there is shuffling of feet.
Dustin says “Someone who made you laugh.”
I can almost hear the smiles
As the room becomes light.
Tiffany says “A friend you’ve met who you didn’t know before.”
An awareness of undeserved
Privilege becomes staggering.
“Someone you consider wise.”
Soon I am called up, and I break the limit
Because I must.
After everyone has gone and we blow out the lights
There isn’t much that I feel I need… I’m disappointed you went back to this style. Don’t get me wrong, I love how you fill this whole poem with personal touches by using people’s names, it just doesn’t seem to hold up as well as some of the other stanzas. Anyways, the 2nd line seems very awkward to me. Maybe “parking lots that were happy for us” or something of the sorts because right now, there’s nothing tying the two lines together. The rest is okay. I like the ending, it feels very sentimental and nice.
A modest auditorium
Was a workshop for hearts
Incognito, looking back.
Our caffeine twilight operations
Propelled and crawled, while invisible instruments
Took their time.
Everybody watched the Kevins dance.
The back row moved as big as the first.
Most nights we challenged the cold
With body heat and progress
Until it was as though we could
Progress no more,
And every step was drawn in our marrow.
I knew the toe touch
And the Indian run
Or what have you,
But I didn’t know a word about Nick
Except that he was from San Jose;
I hadn’t learned
That Tracy seemed quiet
Only because I hadn’t given her
The time to speak.
I think the 5th and 6th lines would work better if you switched them around like “Invisible instruments took their time, while our caffeine twilight operations propelled and crawled. After that part, the rest of this just seems like it’s rambling on and on and their hasn’t been much, if at all, previously editing. The rest just seems so bland to me and I’m disappointed by it. The last three lines are nice compared to the others though.

We stirred on the brink of a disc earth
Facing toward ghost horizons
Our backs to their mirror image of oblivion
A nervous navy on the edge of the world
Slowly casting nets becoming blithe over wine. Eh, I don’t have much to say here except I didn’t really like it. Sorry. Maybe I’m just getting tired of going in depths? Ha. I think the last line was what did it though, I wouldn’t mind nearly as much if the last line was cut or at least redone (I like the casting nets image).

[Ryzenfall]

help the flow.

Thanks so much for taking a solid look at this. I'll definitely be making revisions.

I honestly can't ask any more of you after that ridiculously long post, but if you want, I posted some more recent stanzas a while back.

Also. Facebook group. We should do it.

[The Personist]

i'm down for a facebook group.

HOLY SHIT HE ROSE FROM THE DEAD WTF

[Ryzenfall]

i'm down for a facebook group.

HOLY SHIT HE ROSE FROM THE DEAD WTF

A Ban'd In Hope?

[The Personist]

A(n un)Ban(ne)d In Hope, more like.

[TK]

Thanks so much for taking a solid look at this. I'll definitely be making revisions.

I honestly can't ask any more of you after that ridiculously long post, but if you want, I posted some more recent stanzas a while back.

Also. Facebook group. We should do it.

I saw and I'll try to get around to them later next week or maybe sooner depending on school.

And yes, Facebook group. How do you make one though? What will we name it?

[The Personist]

Jay isn't even mah friend on teh facebookz

[TK]

Jay isn't even mah friend on teh facebookz

I'm not going to be your friend if you don't read my revision.

[The Personist]

I'm not going to be your friend if you don't read my revision.
I'll get around to it...I have 12 billion things on my plate.

[TK]

I'll get around to it...I have 12 billion things on my plate.

Things on David's Plate:

1) Post on AP

2) Post random lyrics in facebook status

3) Think about doing something school related, but then get occupied with something related with the internet.

4) Make snide comments about random band that AP loves.

5) Eat

...

11,999,999,998) Get banned from a thread on AP

11,999,999,999) Hate on Say Anything and other bands he used to love
12,000,000,000) Write a poem, throw it away, and post on AP or facebook about it.


Hahaha, my first comment was just kind of a reminder not to forget! Hope you're not getting mad because of my nagging.

[The Personist]

Things on David's Plate:

1) Post on AP

2) Post random lyrics in facebook status

3) Think about doing something school related, but then get occupied with something related with the internet.

4) Make snide comments about random band that AP loves.

5) Eat

...

11,999,999,998) Get banned from a thread on AP

11,999,999,999) Hate on Say Anything and other bands he used to love
12,000,000,000) Write a poem, throw it away, and post on AP or facebook about it.


Hahaha, I'm my first comment was just kind of a reminded not to forget! Hope you're not getting made because of my nagging.
i'm glad you're your firstcomment, but I must say your nagging has got me plenty made, baby.

[TK]

i'm glad you're your firstcomment, but I must say your nagging has got me plenty made, baby.

Touche.

I'm really tired, I'm going to bed. I'll bitch at you later.

[Ryzenfall]

Jay isn't even mah friend on teh facebookz

I'm adding you now.
I'm Max from The Wild Things.

[Praetor]

Some of these lines are so beautiful.

[Ryzenfall]

Some of these lines are so beautiful.

Thanks man. I appreciate you venturing in here to drop an encouraging word.

One day I aspire to read something of yours through devious means of espionage and blackmail.

[Praetor]

Thanks man. I appreciate you venturing in here to drop an encouraging word.

One day I aspire to read something of yours through devious means of espionage and blackmail.
haha I'll PM you something I wrote a couple nights ago. It's not special and it's a really rough work in progress but I like its start.

[Praetor]

I just reread this because I was bored and honestly, this is the best thing I've ever read in this forum. I actually like not knowing about some of the things you're referencing, it adds dimension to the piece. Such a beautiful piece of work.