(from the moon series)
misses the party in a foreign country.
Accumulates broken friendships.
Looks back to the past and sees one dead
end here, one crumbling bridge there,
tire fires and a mountain of empty vessels
thrown to the wayside. Wishes
for a magic finger. Tires of doing life's work
alone. Wants someone to dress up with
and burn the town. Eats habitually and runs
calle de la reina. Watches reflection
through the trees, the fame and the glory
too much, too heavy to carry all the way,
too round and full to be seen in public.
The regrets, oh the regrets and the jealousy
of a true legend come crashing down. The weight
of the universe and one night in Beverly Hills.
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Mad Moon Over Mehringdamm
It was the whisper behind your words, after being scared shitless by the description of the eight of cups, that triggered the vanishing of o...
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of standing in a room full of people listening to my friend of twenty three years introduce me. He talks of ping pong and sail bo...
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it was hungry, i could tell the yellow bicycle i was ten, it was hungry it was raining, i heard the window told me i could tell, that old fe...
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(from the moon series) The last stop before sleep. The idle lights and cold marble ground. The conveyor belts of the soul. Someone ha...
Might as well comment on this one as any other...
ReplyDeleteOn this poem, using reflection to change the subject is well done, including the two following lines, but the final stanza doesn't carry with the rest of your poem (or the reflection of the earlier sections).
With the overall theme of this series...
Your metaphorical meaning of the moon seems to change every few poems. Your uses of the moon are sometimes too cliched for your own good. It would be interesting for you to investigate how the moon is an orbiting object. You might find some new depth there.
In the series there is a mood of loneliness and melancholy and sensuality. I don't know what you're trying to communicate outside of angst. Sometimes these feel too drawn in on themselves, which didn't exist in the poems you wrote while traveling out east.
...I am not a true analyst or critic of poetry. These are my thoughts only and should be regarded as appropriate for the dustbins of history.
Don't get lost in these craters.
~P
PS Miss you. Come back this summer?