hi aj.
in general you have too much going on in a too unwieldy way. i get that's what your aiming for through the title but it just seems to have too much disjointedness and not enough continuity. watch out for excess;
lay strewn...no need for [lay] as it's a given
sirens usually build up slowly or stay at a constant whine (non violent); now a fog horn can scare the shit out of a body.
[
quote='ajcohen613' pid='172057' dateline='1408395772']
Bruised pears lay strewn across the dirt,
an old man on a stroll coughs like a violent siren behind me.
Atop a hill stands a wiggling mirage –
a family of four in Sunday clothes talking about
aunt something’s honey ham last weekend somewhere. i like the homey picture and the mundaness of it.
Sunlight chokes on a sudden wind, i also like this image, it's fresh and pictorial.
leafy patches of shadow take turns on my face,
the son’s brown eyes are the old man’s thick glasses. not so keen on this as i can't reconcile the two
All the sideline animals hum like an electric orchestra; [all the sideline] doesn't work to well either
unplanned unison in the fabric of everything.
The walking senior sparks a skinny cigarette
and admires the same burgundy dahlias
I thought resembled fresh blood on a green blanket.
He smiles at me like a charming statue,
frozen for those seconds between two tally marks.
Helplessly gazing at it all, I imagine one body.
The creases in my palm tell an unfamiliar tale,
the atoms in my creases stroll like strangers going about their day.
[/quote]
in general you have too much going on in a too unwieldy way. i get that's what your aiming for through the title but it just seems to have too much disjointedness and not enough continuity. watch out for excess;
lay strewn...no need for [lay] as it's a given
sirens usually build up slowly or stay at a constant whine (non violent); now a fog horn can scare the shit out of a body.
[
quote='ajcohen613' pid='172057' dateline='1408395772']
Bruised pears lay strewn across the dirt,
an old man on a stroll coughs like a violent siren behind me.
Atop a hill stands a wiggling mirage –
a family of four in Sunday clothes talking about
aunt something’s honey ham last weekend somewhere. i like the homey picture and the mundaness of it.
Sunlight chokes on a sudden wind, i also like this image, it's fresh and pictorial.
leafy patches of shadow take turns on my face,
the son’s brown eyes are the old man’s thick glasses. not so keen on this as i can't reconcile the two
All the sideline animals hum like an electric orchestra; [all the sideline] doesn't work to well either
unplanned unison in the fabric of everything.
The walking senior sparks a skinny cigarette
and admires the same burgundy dahlias
I thought resembled fresh blood on a green blanket.
He smiles at me like a charming statue,
frozen for those seconds between two tally marks.
Helplessly gazing at it all, I imagine one body.
The creases in my palm tell an unfamiliar tale,
the atoms in my creases stroll like strangers going about their day.
[/quote]