07-29-2017, 06:20 AM
Hi, Todd. Every time you write, I am amazed.
I feel like most of what you write is so orderly already.
I will try to pick it apart, but I think that will be hard to do.
It won’t be like the preachers say. -I know you want to make a statement by ending this with a period, but the next L
As they strut like college boys with their father starts funky.
into the whorehouse of their imaginings. -good expression of holier men only found to be human
God is not concerned
with a back ache in South Carolina,
nor does He speak in the voice
of your wife through a radio transmitter.
If light is simply His self-revelation,
and at a word galaxies spun out stars,
an explosion of so many dying fireflies. -this stanza stops too bluntly
If breath from His anthropomorphic lungs
filled our lungs, so that we would also speak,
become His image in resounding echo,
then when we hear that whisper,
the infinite will settle on our tongue
a brand unquenchable. I found
it to be like an envelope torn open,
contents spilled out--a forgotten detail
never learned, like a string
never tied to an invisible finger.
There was only the name of a stranger,
her life in an intricate script,
a half-brother, my likely schizophrenia,
and the pressure to write it all down.
The next day, she existed, Ex nilhio, - not sure what exnilhio is, does it refer to angels?
like a conjuror's trick, or a book
I had already read. The world wobbled
like a top, and I couldn’t return to silence
no matter how I covered my ears.
I like how the poem begins with reason, and then the center, a seeming vulnerability or hint of person/speaker, and the ending, hope. Thank you so much for the privilege to read your tender poetry and to try to critique it.
nibbed
I feel like most of what you write is so orderly already.
I will try to pick it apart, but I think that will be hard to do.
It won’t be like the preachers say. -I know you want to make a statement by ending this with a period, but the next L
As they strut like college boys with their father starts funky.
into the whorehouse of their imaginings. -good expression of holier men only found to be human
God is not concerned
with a back ache in South Carolina,
nor does He speak in the voice
of your wife through a radio transmitter.
If light is simply His self-revelation,
and at a word galaxies spun out stars,
an explosion of so many dying fireflies. -this stanza stops too bluntly
If breath from His anthropomorphic lungs
filled our lungs, so that we would also speak,
become His image in resounding echo,
then when we hear that whisper,
the infinite will settle on our tongue
a brand unquenchable. I found
it to be like an envelope torn open,
contents spilled out--a forgotten detail
never learned, like a string
never tied to an invisible finger.
There was only the name of a stranger,
her life in an intricate script,
a half-brother, my likely schizophrenia,
and the pressure to write it all down.
The next day, she existed, Ex nilhio, - not sure what exnilhio is, does it refer to angels?
like a conjuror's trick, or a book
I had already read. The world wobbled
like a top, and I couldn’t return to silence
no matter how I covered my ears.
I like how the poem begins with reason, and then the center, a seeming vulnerability or hint of person/speaker, and the ending, hope. Thank you so much for the privilege to read your tender poetry and to try to critique it.
nibbed
there's always a better reason to love