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[only rob]

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When I saw Thompson
approaching the lady giraffe
with a stepladder
I knew the first one didn't love
me anymore

so I tried to build pride
out of taxes and the time-clock
ground my fingers off
The square peg sought
circular sanctuary

but the gentle fingers of night
the stroke of clear currents
the distant breast of moon

coated the Cheshire cat
with menses and alternative wisdoms

The second wove doilies
from snapping electric cobwebs
to lay on paisley altars
on a world gone
terribly flat

so I mumbled poems into her

psalms of wonder and amniotic
waterfalls

but she bucked them off knowing
that this was not my first rodeo
knowing she could inflict nothing
I couldn't heal

I can just make out the third
in her black dress and heavens
in her eclipse and musty finery
but I learned a new word today
so she'll just have to wait

You can find that word
seventeen adventures east
three vaginas North
of the spot where your
red convertible metaphor
runs out of gas

[Bronte]

this bit is a keeper it can stand alone, yes I really like it .. the rest never grabbed me ~~ sorry

You can find that word
seventeen adventures east
three vaginas North
of the spot where your
red convertible metaphor
runs out of gas

[Erthona]

ditto

Dale

[Todd]

Hi Rob,

Here are some comments for you. I hope they'll be helpful.

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When I saw Thompson
approaching the lady giraffe
with a stepladder
I knew the first one didn't love
me anymore--This opening has sort of a James Thurber humor to it that I like. What throws me off though is that the tone doesn't continue throughout the piece. It's not that it has to, it just feels a little jarring.

so I tried to build pride
out of taxes and the time-clock
ground my fingers off--compare this phrasing to the opening. I sort of like the image it just feels like it belongs in a different poem
The square peg sought
circular sanctuary--For me this didn't work as a reworked cliche. It felt flat

but the gentle fingers of night
the stroke of clear currents--again while I think the next line has some original phrasing. I'm not sure about these first two. It just feels like something that's been done before (I'm not trying to be harsh at all it just isn't taking me anywhere)
the distant breast of moon

coated the Cheshire cat
with menses and alternative wisdoms

The second wove doilies
from snapping electric cobwebs
to lay on paisley altars
on a world gone
terribly flat--I keep thinking that "A world gone terribly flat" might be a good title in its own right

so I mumbled poems into her

psalms of wonder and amniotic
waterfalls--amniotic waterfalls is interesting. We've moved from menses earlier to this. When I see sequences like this though I wonder what the vague poems above gives you. Why not simply "so I mumbled psalms into her"...or some such. It could just be a bias of mine. It seems self conscious to put the word poem in a poem on some level. It could just be me. It still seems a little unnecessary. If you did want to keep the line maybe moving mumbling to something else. Make the poetry like an oil that's rubbed into skin...anything to make it something more than what it is. Just thinking out loud here...

but she bucked them off knowing
that this was not my first rodeo--again not really thinking the cliched phrasing is saved. I see how you're trying to rework it but I don't find it effective
knowing she could inflict nothing
I couldn't heal--I think these two lines get you what you need without the rodeo phrasing

I can just make out the third
in her black dress and heavens
in her eclipse and musty finery
but I learned a new word today
so she'll just have to wait

You can find that word
seventeen adventures east
three vaginas North
of the spot where your
red convertible metaphor
runs out of gas--This ending feels the closest to the first strophe. There's a crazy fun sense to it. I think your opening and your ending are on track. I really enjoyed the ending. It feels like the middle of the poem is where the issues are (imo).

I'm not sure how helpful that is, but hopefully you got something out of the comments.

Best,

Todd

[billy]

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When I saw Thompson
approaching the lady giraffe
with a stepladder
I knew the first one didn't love
me anymore

so I tried to build pride
out of taxes and the time-clock
ground my fingers off
The square peg sought
circular sanctuary

but the gentle fingers of night
the stroke of clear currents
the distant breast of moon

coated the Cheshire cat
with menses and alternative wisdoms

The second wove doilies
from snapping electric cobwebs
to lay on paisley altars
on a world gone
terribly flat

so I mumbled poems into her

psalms of wonder and amniotic
waterfalls

but she bucked them off knowing
that this was not my first rodeo
knowing she could inflict nothing
I couldn't heal

I can just make out the third
in her black dress and heavens
in her eclipse and musty finery
but I learned a new word today
so she'll just have to wait

You can find that word
seventeen adventures east
three vaginas North
of the spot where your
red convertible metaphor
runs out of gas

like wise on the last verse, it's prefect...but in what context i can't ascertain. it feels like i should be understanding what's going on but i'm struggling (which is possibly just me) i connect the title with more than one thing and yet neither of them really fit the poem as well as i expected after the read. i'm sure i should be saying well written but like i say, i can't really decipher what's going on even though i enjoyed the images.
thanks for the read.