Six Months in 1995

[Todd]

We’d become infected
with the brightness of the moon–
the rasp of our own breathing;
days that pressed too close,
flash burns on walls, etched
radioactive hieroglyphs
of a pregnant girlfriend,
dominatrix with a bread knife,
itchy-faced bouncer with teeth
that wouldn’t brush clean,
red-dressed addict in frayed
fishnets, covered with drywall
vomit in the walk-in-closet.
Glasses clinked and shattered
into lines that crawled up noses burning
inexorable fuses.
Arms and legs splayed forever
exploded over rust-stained shag.
None of us were there.
None of us saw anything.
Something died.
Someone died.
We all should have died.

[billy]

for me there were a couple of lines verging on cliche;
with the brightness of the moon–
the rasp of our own breathing;

it's jammed with good lines;

dominatrix with a bread knife,
itchy-faced bouncer with teeth
that wouldn’t brush clean,
red-dressed addict in frayed
fishnets, covered with drywall
vomit in the walk-in-closet.
Glasses clinked and shattered
into lines that crawled up noses burning
inexorable fuses.
Arms and legs splayed forever
exploded over rust-stained shag.

the last 4 lines bring it down to earth but for me it was a little to late for it to be effective.

if i had a nit it would be; there's too much allusion.
it takes a lot of reads to decipher the poem and then the reader isn't sure if he got it, the reader being me lol.
i do enjoy a poem that brings me back without opening up on the first few reads normally. but i feel that this poem should be in my face and ready to roll.

i get the feel of that unspeakable couple, young, out there on the edge trying everything about life except the living of it. (in fact they're more than living it they;re killing it.) again for me with such a powerful write i'd like to see something solid that tethers it away from so much allusion.

it's certainly a better than average write and it could just be me that see it the way i do.

thanks for the read todd.

[Todd]

Cool. Thanks for the critique Billy. I'll definitely give some thought to what you say. I'll consider what you said about the allusions--and see where my mind takes me. Thanks for the taking the time with it.

Much appreciated,

Todd

[billy]

don't get me wrong Todd.

the allusions are great. and i wouldn't want any of them to disappear.
as a reader i'd just like some of the concrete images to be pointed out as such.

ie;
red-dressed addict in frayed
fishnets, covered with drywall

is a great image but for me comes across as an allusion.

[Todd]

No, I get what you're saying Billy. I also need to work on making my non-allusions not appear as allusions (a bit of a balancing act)

Thanks.

[billy]

thanks, sometimes feedback is harder to understand than poetry

this is an edit an hour after the fact.

i have to say sorry;
i like an idiot never registered the title. like an idiot i went straight to the poem.
i came back and saw the title as though my eyes had been cleaned out.

it puts a whole new slant on the feedback i gave.

now i see it's just a poem about reflection. of mistakes made of things done.
i see a sort of melancholy a regret tinged with understanding of hindsight.

the last 4 lines now work much better for me.
the allusion too. all in all it goes to show that the title plays an aggressive part of a poem
and as such should always be thought about.

<--- me the idiot

[heslopian]

The final lines are deeply haunting. A morbid, vaguely perverse, but stunning string of images which resonate and help evoke those past six months. The syntax in these lines confused me a bit:

flash burns on walls etched
radioactive hieroglyphs
of a pregnant girlfriend.

I'm not sure what a good alternative would be. Perhaps put a comma after walls?
Other than that, though, nice poem

[Todd]

The final lines are deeply haunting. A morbid, vaguely perverse, but stunning string of images which resonate and help evoke those past six months. The syntax in these lines confused me a bit:

flash burns on walls etched
radioactive hieroglyphs
of a pregnant girlfriend.

I'm not sure what a good alternative would be. Perhaps put a comma after walls?
Other than that, though, nice poem

Hey thanks again. I appreciate you pointing out the syntax issues a comma probably would smooth out that line more. I appreicate your comments.

Todd

[Thoth the Atlantean]

To me, this was about living with a roommate for a few months through summer. Things didn't go so well and one roommate was becoming increasingly PO'ed with the other. On Halloween night the annoying roommate throws a party or has some sort of gathering that goes on into the early hours of the morning. The annoyed roommate can hear them from his room. He can't sleep and he fantasizes about killing the other roommate. The last line is the author looking back on those years when he was younger and wilder. I love the lines "flash burns on walls, etched radioactive hieroglyphs" and how it relates a photo to ancient hieroglyphs, in that, they are used to tell the story of ones life.

[ChristopherSea]

Todd, I wanted to express that I think it is great when someone resurrects an older piece that we may have missed. Folks should do it more often. Thoth also recommended an important edit as well. Therefore, fresh looks are very important to our poetry edits.

This read like '91/2' weeks on 'crank' for me. Although I appreciated elements, the downfall may have occurred to quickly for me. Nonetheless, given that this was the rapid decay timeline you needed, I enjoyed how the rather syrupy opening contrasted with the rapid burn and decay to follow. Keeping with the metaphor of radioactive decay, I might re-edit these lines:

flash burns on walls, etched
radioactive hieroglyphs
of a pregnant girlfriend,

-to-

radiation burns on walls,
etching hieroglyphs
of a pregnant girlfriend,

You could still use: 'radiation flash burns on walls...' Additionally, 'inexorable fuses' gave me too much pause for a cascading piece such as this, probably from the difficulty with its flow and the pondering of meaning. (BTW, shouldn't that be 'with inexorable fuses'? Something as simple as 'unstoppable' might work. I think the problem is my own tongue because even ‘with inextinguishable fuses’ flows better from my mouth!

I had a period in my early years like this and it makes me forever wonder how I survived! Potent and poignant work./Chris

[beaufort]

I like the harshness and intensity of this, the feeling of spiraling quickly out of control, the wisdom of hindsight and regret. The last line took me back a bit - I had anticipated that it would be more of a rueful forgiveness rather than condemnation of the self, or perhaps it means "we are lucky we did not die" as opposed to "we deserved to die".

As regards "covered with drywall vomit in the walk-in closet" - the meaning is clear, but to me it sounds like the vomit is made of drywall, hmmm.

Really think this is good, reverberates for all of us who have spent a few months away and awry. Linda

[bena]

Damn. Nuff said.

[tectak]

Hi Todd,
I come fresh to this one and feel that a little cathartic critting will do us both good. I don't want to understand what this is all about as I think there is always room for the obscure when deliberate...when accidental, no. So, line by line to get the juice out of it!

We’d become infectedFirst off, that hyphen below serves no purpose other than to de-link L1 and L2 grammatically. Normally not a problem, but do you want to carry over the L1 "infection" to the rest of the piece? I think not; so you need a real buffer zone before launching on to a conveyor belt of contrivances. It is hard to swallow the bug that infects you by brightness, rasping breathing, flash burns, hieroglyphs (or even -ics), a dominatrix, a bouncer et al. It just drives home a non-point. For me, you would serve the piece better if you cameo'd the primary metaphors per se.
with the brightness of the moon–
the rasp of our own breathing;
days that pressed too close,
flash burns on walls, etched
radioactive hieroglyphs
of a pregnant girlfriend,
dominatrix with a bread knife,
itchy-faced bouncer with teeth
that wouldn’t brush clean,
red-dressed addict in frayed
fishnets, covered with drywall
vomit in the walk-in-closet.
Glasses clinked and shattered
into lines that crawled up noses burning
inexorable fuses.Not clear what this means but you seem to say it clearly so it must be me
Arms and legs splayed forever
exploded over rust-stained shag.
None of us were there.
None of us saw anything.
Something died.
Someone died.
We all should have died....but yes to the finale. Better by far to have these convincingly complete witness statements than the deranged unreliable ramble at the beginning...EVEN THOUGH THAT MAY BE HOW YOU WISH TO SUGGEST THE CHARACTER EXPRESSES HIM/HERSELF. There is inconsistency of characterisation. Yes...that's it. This is me liking it

[cidermaid]

Hi Todd,
I have been back to this one many times over the past week, it reads very topical with all the current media noise over the italian case...not saying that is what this, is just saying there are some images that stick and the last lines of your poem brought some of that case to mind.
I am feeling a bit out of practice after my time out, but will offer what thoughts i have below.

We’d become infected I like this as an opener. it begs a question that only the poem can answer.
with the brightness of the moon– Perhaps a bit on the cliche side of the tracks. When i read the next two lines i want to reconstruct this is some way to an image of false light from the moon and the raggedness of thier breath shaving slivers off moon beams and drawing the daylight nearer....hope this is in some way comprehensible. I wouldn't dream of trying to offer an attempt at a rewrite for these lines. But this is where my thoughts lead my by way of an image from what you have written. I like the image - I just think they could do with a bit of umph!
the rasp of our own breathing;
days that pressed too close,
flash burns on walls, etched I must admit I am not sure what these two lines are expressing, but they feel very specific so i am assuming it is my sheltered life in deepest darkest rural-land, that has left me wanting to from a solid image.
radioactive hieroglyphs
of a pregnant girlfriend,
dominatrix with a bread knife,
itchy-faced bouncer with teeth
that wouldn’t brush clean,
red-dressed addict in frayed
fishnets, covered with drywall
vomit in the walk-in-closet. I really like the details of all the different caracters. I think they ground the poem and bring the story to life. In particular the drywall vomit stockings in the closet - nice!
Glasses clinked and shattered
into lines that crawled up noses burning I do not get how the shattered glass forms lines. After spending some time pondering this I came to the conclusion it was the effect of broken glass used as a weapon on a face / nose. But again it felt like a specific detail, of a particular incident that you had in mind when you wrote this...one that i am not privy to.
inexorable fuses. I like the explosivness of the situation and feel that the answer to the initial question has been revealed....and now we are getting the conclusion of these events.
Arms and legs splayed forever I love the aged deraliction of the rust stained shag image. But i feel I need a little more help with clarification from the punctuation here. Are the arms and legs splayed forever or forever exploded?
exploded over rust-stained shag.
None of us were there.
None of us saw anything.
Something died.
Someone died.
We all should have died. Think this is a great ending. the confessional / regret / shame emotion is hard working and forms a good link to the begining of the poem. A bad memory on a reply loop in the mind. so that combined with the title, this makes for a great skeletons in the closet secret type story. Well for my read at least

I have enjoyed this one and no doubt will be back again to follow any edits and re-read. All the best AJ.

[Todd]

Guys, I've been away for a few months. I've read the comments and when I can get into an editing mood I'll sit down with this again and consider some changes. It's obviously been on the shelf long enough to fresh.

Thank you all for the time spent.

Best,

Todd

[crow]

Todd, let me take a shot at rehearsing just the narrative, here.

Six Months in 1995

We’d become infected
with the brightness of the moon–
--this is an idea of lunacy, of menstruation, of sex, and if danger

the rasp of our own breathing;
--sex and a reference to illness, stress, fatigue, weakness

days that pressed too close,
--claustrophobia, no breathing room, heightened arousal, stress

flash burns on walls, etched
radioactive hieroglyphs
--doctors office, x-rays, mystery, distance, things that require interpretation

of a pregnant girlfriend,
--concrete image, distancing frame, false attempt at depersonalization

dominatrix with a bread knife,
--cruelty, domination contrasted with domesticity

itchy-faced bouncer with teeth
--probably the narrator's own face

that wouldn’t brush clean,
--guilt

red-dressed addict in frayed
fishnets, covered with drywall
--metaphoric prostitution contrasts w another idea of domesticity: the abode, or domicile; bloodshot eyes

vomit in the walk-in-closet.
--hiding, disgust, loneliness, alcoholism

Glasses clinked and shattered
into lines that crawled up noses burning
inexorable fuses.
--addiction, fear, fragility, a ruined toast, pensiveness, expectation, probably a fear of being "sniffed out"/discovered; possibly a dangerous attempt at unsupervised abortion

Arms and legs splayed forever
exploded over rust-stained shag.
--the rust is blood, this is a horrifying miscarriage or abortion

None of us were there.
--the mother died

None of us saw anything.
--again the idea of ridding oneself of guilt, culpability

Something died.
--the baby/fetus, the relationship, happiness

Someone died.
--the narrator metaphorically, the victim actually

We all should have died.
--regret, anxiety, guilt

Hope that helps!

[Todd]

Crow, I enjoyed your read and insights. It's always good to see reader's takeaways.

Thanks,

Todd

[crow]

Todd,

I hope I wasn't too far off the mark, and fwiw, I was def coming at the poem thinking it was about a miscarriage or an abortion, and I was warping the narrative to fit that preconception. That said, it does seem like that's what the poem's about, and so, if you want it to be about something else, I'd change some things .

crow

[Todd]

Hey crow,

After I write it. I leave interpretation up to the reader. My job ends when I put it out there unless I edit (obviously). Again thanks.

Todd