Somewhere an Alaskan Mountain

[burrealist]

Somewhere an Alaskan Mountain Maybe you like the mysterious sound, but this title doesn't seem to make sense. Some people may just disregard the whole thing. A comma could be placed right after "Somewhere".
This title also only seems relevant at the end- something to consider.


I dig when you bring up The line break is awkward. It does pull you in to the next one, but then upon the second line, the words "I dig" sound out of place. I suggest, "When you bring up that affair//With the therapist, I dig," because the flow is more sensible, and the line-break still pulls the audience in. An introduction to the affair in the first line may also sound more interesting. That being said, you've immediately spoken intriguing thoughts. I like the double-meaning used for dig.
that affair with the therapist.
I dig into permafrosted heart, I've learned repetition should be scarce and purposeful. Why are you saying "I dig" twice?
gouge out my wandering lie. 

It digs not because of the lack Here's another awkward line-break that you can reassemble. This spot might also be an appropriate place to repeat the words "I dig". I think shifting from "I" digging to "It" digging is odd.
of trust, or the insult thrust 
like a sippy cup at the back
of Mommy’s indiscretion. You must have put a lot of thought into this stanza. I only say that because I struggle trying to understand other people's metaphors/symbolism, and this is a section I'll have to strain to try and understand. I usually believe this means you've written something insightful. I am expecting more integration of childhood objects as I read on.

It digs up dead soil full of
fossilized worms. The clangs
of its pick at each dark depth This is strangely worded. It takes some unnecessary strain to understand it.
turn old stones new with time. I like this part. I imagined turning over stones, and it was vivid. Now it seems, as the poem progresses, you may be digging into deeper information for the audience to unearth. 

Fallow fields make feeble harvest,
but I plow and I plant. You pick
at the scabs, ruby and topaz
tombstones for grave wounds. Having said that last thing, this stanza felt disappointing. Not that it is written badly- but my expectations were buried. I thought you would let the audience dig into you, but you went down an unexpected path. That can be both enlightening and disappointing. What disappoints me most is that now you're planting seeds for yourself. This idea of planting seeds may have come too soon. 

So, maybe you can write another stanza that really, really digs. Dirty fingers gripping whatever lies beneath, mud stuck in your nails, you know?

I still dig that poem you wrote This is a bit silly.
but this silence is not golden. "Silence is not gold." Gold is a metal; "golden" is a descriptive color. You spoke of stones and metals earlier, so I think you should stay on that path.
Our promises did not harden
into diamonds under the snow. I like this part. It's pretty, but not happy. Melancholy? Anyway, "diamonds" and "snow" go well together. Or maybe not? 

Some information feels missing, and some of the phrasing is weird. The ending comes too soon. The imagery/metaphors/symbolism is pretty solid. Except for that weird sippy cup part. That was so out of place. (It makes sense from a Fruedian stand-point, but the rest of the poem is so different.)

I hope this helps, sorry to hear about the boring circle jerks.