A Tender Violence/It is. What is it?

[Todd]

Well let me give this one a shot. Spoken word is a bit of a different animal--its related to written poetry but not quite the same. There is the performance aspect that is not captured solely in the text.

I'm going to review this as a written piece then because I believe that arriving at the best content should help improve the performance. I think this one on the surface would read well to a group. That said, here are some notes below:

Note: this is a spoken word poem. Please take this into consideration when critiquing.


A Tender Violence

It is.

Our lips lightly touch like whispers soft on the wings of a moth.-- I like your opening image. I like the use of the wings of the moth. I like how it could be a similar shape to lips. I would cut lightly and trust the imagery more. It's a stronger line without the modifier.
My fingernails trawl across your ribcage, rip tides in slow waves.--trawl is a neat word I think you need to bring more of a net feature into the motion to pull off the word here. Clever play on words with rip tides, and I like that the imagery is suggestive to the action happening.
I pull your bones apart to make home in your heart,--might be nitpicking but I don't like the your. I think you need to consider flowing from ribcage better so that we stay focused on which bones are in view. We get it but we have to reevaluate once we read heart and that's a disconnect from the experience. Maybe even something more medically precise than simply bones--option. At this point even "the" for "your" would be an improvement for me.
bathing in your hissing and your twisting and the way you keep insisting--Like the sonics. I'm not sure I interpret the sound of hissing easily but it's a judgment call I guess. These phrases have a nice rhythm to them.
my teeth on your shoulder, over and over.--too abrupt. some variation on "that my teeth bite your shoulder, over and over." I'm not saying that has to be the line by any means but it reads too choppy at present
I devour the prolific VerySpecific expression you render fine,--sounds good, says little. This is shorthand for something without actually providing anything--be careful here
watching from just below your jawline,
the way you burn my skin off with your eyes;--This fits well with the title and I like the line
surgically dissecting my disguise, your fingers pry through my insides
dyed in hues of green and blue
inspecting but never expecting perfection.--This feels like it needs a line break after expecting to get that half beat before perfection. The problem here with this section is it's much less evocative than your first strophe. You need more consistency when the partner begins their exploration
Affectionate articulation calls attention to fault lines
and salient doubtholes bound by silence but
every word of your prose stitches me closed,--prose strikes me as a bit meta
unclothed and open to the world.
Breathing deeply and weaving freely my soul,
unfolding control of the known and untold.
Within and without you I find myself whole
and wholly alone.--I like this end line with the break on whole, the word play and the conclusion drawn. Some of the soul lines feel a bit too ethereal without more grounding imagery. They aren't bad just not particularly memorable at the moment.

What is it?

These moments unfurl from my fingertips like flags of surrender,--as might work better than like here.
bending knees like young trees weighed under too far. --under feels wrong. Down maybe
Memories free from my finger reeds as if each were lit cigars.
How the smoke fills the room, blooming in moon-flowers--don't like the "how" but like the rest of the line
asphyxiating my senses. Suffocating me senseless.--maybe condense: "asphyxiating me senseless" A bit more economy may be stronger
It's a tomb. For choking. And smoking. And hoping.
Hope may be a beacon but it is too a disease -
a pathogen wrapped within reveries and dreams
occupying your mind with complete incompletion and fear of deletion.--This sequence just felt sort of preachy to me. Could just be me.
Instead of feeling healing, in head dread they fester
and I'm a repeat star offender.
It's cursed treasure obsession pleasure-
what you have is still gold but it cannot be handled.
Instead channeled, measured in hourglass sand.--measured in hourglass sand is nice. You have some good moments but you seem to go for these little rhythmic pops that may not add much. I think you could cut some of the flourishes and have a stronger piece.
Spend it slow and tend it with intended hands;
it cannot be infliction of conviction or addictive prediction.
Take moon-flowers in doses to ease the affliction
Quit rewinding the time, tune your mind to skysigns and
focus forward blind eyes 'til you finally
Arrive.

Those are my initial thoughts for your consideration. Hope some of it helps.

Best,

Todd