10-14-2013, 04:12 PM
I kind of thought it might have been a car on stanza 1, but by the second verse I thought it was about somebody progressively going mad and, when the razor blade came in, cutting their throat. [gulp] Would it be too much throw in a fucking, 'of my skateboard', somewhere?! 
It's a nice poem, but it would benefit from clarity. A lot of it feels like you're writing it just to be poetic, and it doesn't really suit the subject. You're not writing about, like, the Angels in the Empyrean, you're writing about changing ball bearings and the language should reflect that. If you review it again, I'd say, be ruthless and economical. Cut out anything that isn't a pure image.
It's very strong rhythmically though, that's one of its major strengths. The rhythms, like I said, often reflect the subject matter, almost in an onomatopoeia way, and it's really nice. All I really have for advice is: be much more direct with this poem. Show me exactly what it is, in no uncertain terms. There's no reason to make me play guesswork - before anything else, I want to know it's a skateboard we're talking about. The only real problem with this poem is that it tends to abstract and poeticise when the simple and concrete aren't really nailed down.
It's great, though - in those moments when it shines, it really shines. Great rhythm, great choice of words, and a great feel for image when you do it.
Quote:Thick grease smears across your fingertips,
sticking to the surface and filling up the ridges; The rhythm is really nice here.
wad a paper towel, clean away what you can,
the rest'll smear across your forehead when you
wipe your face yet again. This stanza is fine, but to me, it lacks anything suitable for its place as an opening stanza. The only thing it introduces on a first read through is grease - I'd switch it with the second verse, which is where the poem really kicks in.
Before, as you stuttered over sidewalk cracks, stuttered implies speech - staggered? cobbled? rattled?
the pavement revealed through the chips in your deck, clunky - tongue trips over 'pavement revealed' - because you haven't built up an explicit skateboard image, 'deck' is really bewildering here - this is the first time the body of the skateboard is actually mentioned and it's presumed I already know about it
each passing pebble seemed a layer of gravel, each turn pebbles are a lot harder on wheels than gravel!
a rusty centrifuge yanking you further beautiful line - gorgeous meter, gorgeous vocab
away from your teetering grip on control. seems a little melodramatic for a shitty skaeteboard wheel
The edge of a razor blade lifts the little cap I feel like this is forced poeticizing, and it makes it somewhat obscure. I would say 'You lift the little cap with the edge of a razor blade'
red plastic revealing a chain of rolling orbs beneath 'Red plastic' doesn't really add much here and feels weak - 'revealing a chain of rolling orbs beneath' is stronger without it
squeeze out a drop or two, let it drip down and oil
the spinning circles; add the cover, grab another,
pry it open and repeat. This is nice. It generates a good, rumbling rhythm which is suitable for the subject treated - it reads like I'm fumbling with a little chain of balls
It's a temporary freedom, slowly drying too much abstract language for me, the rest of it is very concrete, and it was suitable; this is too introspective; keep it concrete
as each hurdle and bump causes metal to grind for this reader, when there's no explicit skateboard built up, this is bewildering
in a ticking decay, wearing down the smoothness of spiral
rails that guided you, suspended, this feels a little too sinister for the subject treated
through the eerie tune of a concrete-bound bird. This line is lovely, and the imagery is lovely, and the images are strong
Line up the spacers and press down on the wheel
little silver circles sliding back into their places
spin it down the axel and tighten til it catches The last stanza is very strong up to here
on your wrench, adjusting for speed and checking
that each one rotates in time. And after that weakens considerably - I'd just end it at 'sliding back into their places'
It's a nice poem, but it would benefit from clarity. A lot of it feels like you're writing it just to be poetic, and it doesn't really suit the subject. You're not writing about, like, the Angels in the Empyrean, you're writing about changing ball bearings and the language should reflect that. If you review it again, I'd say, be ruthless and economical. Cut out anything that isn't a pure image.
It's very strong rhythmically though, that's one of its major strengths. The rhythms, like I said, often reflect the subject matter, almost in an onomatopoeia way, and it's really nice. All I really have for advice is: be much more direct with this poem. Show me exactly what it is, in no uncertain terms. There's no reason to make me play guesswork - before anything else, I want to know it's a skateboard we're talking about. The only real problem with this poem is that it tends to abstract and poeticise when the simple and concrete aren't really nailed down.
It's great, though - in those moments when it shines, it really shines. Great rhythm, great choice of words, and a great feel for image when you do it.