New Moon

[Todd]

Hi Aish,

What I first notice and love about much of your work I've read is the interesting words you weave in. You don't tend to make anything too predictable and that's very cool. Let's work through this poem:

I am far too rooted in this world,--when I take the poem in its entirety, this being rooted in the world seems to be the empirical, physical sense of it. I'm a little unsure how to take the title of the poem. I have some thoughts I'll expand on once we get to the part about craters

concerned with each breath,
each detonation beat.--It's interesting that the speaker is concerned with what is largely automatic functions of the body. Though, I take this in sort of a gnostic way: the concerns of the flesh are in control. Or another way of putting it is that the senses reign over the intuition (the hidden). An option for you here if you want the line to more resemble a repetition of breath or heart beat (I do like detonation beat--though the option will change it a bit) is to do something like (I'll leave the breaks up to you):

concerned with each breath,
each beat, each detonation

It may not be stronger but I liked drawing out the sounds and the repetition. It may not work for you but just an idea

Plastic veins reach out like wild fig--Plastic veins is interesting. Is this maybe the commercial, artificial society infecting the speaker and causing them to be divorced from the natural. That they reach out like wild fig makes me think of them like a spreading plant or vine that is uncultivated yet claims more and more ground.
and burrow for shrinking echoes,--this burrowing seems to be to extinguish the remembrance of something primal. I'm not a big fan of shrinking. I'd prefer something like distant or faint. It works but feels like it's not quite the right word (could just be me)
plaiting truffles into religious bezoars.--I love bezoars. This line makes me think that something rare and valuable (or the very need of it) has been blended into something like a tumor. Put another way: Religion provides a pale substitute to the vibrant desire it replaces. Religious might be a little too leading here. It's on the edge for me...though I can't think of a substitute (ecclesiastical is much the same and ritualistic doesn't say enough).

Hip bones gild the fertile crescent,--beautiful line. Ties back to the title, and when it's this close to religious bezoars it's hard not to read Islam into it, or at the least the lands stretching from what is it Israel to Syria--my geography is always bad.
guarding the temple womb
in rippling silence, beyond
fermenting greed and eggshell gestures.--all of this is strong writing. It's what happens when we give birth to the tumor. It's what is left in its wake.

Stale fingers press sins--It's the fingers that are stale not the bread interesting. You might consider the singular sin. In some ways you get a sense of the Eucharist here. The sin offering becoming the bread.
into bread, flowing water murmuring
of the blessed.--I wonder if the poem needs this line. I sort of like the enjambment of murmuring going directly to the line below
I shall be sealed with honeyed apples and wine,--sealed is a very specific theological word. It speaks of perserverence, or specifically being made to perservere.
inscribed--I'm not fond of inscribed sitting alone here. I tried blending it into the above line, but didn't like the results. I'm not sure if the word adds enough

while science propels me toward
the craters of the moon;
I exhale--love these lines. Back to the moon. The fact that it is the new moon (barely visible) seems important. It represents the mystery of a race that used to look to the stars in wonder. It has been replaced by a world that maps each crater.

and long for
majik.--this is a wish for the mystery to return.

I enjoyed the read Aish. Your work is always very interesting.

Best,

Todd