#1
w/e. I'm well on my way to the bottom of some sort of scary bucket, we'll see what I find.

Questions of Hunger and Poetry with a Radiator. Were we ever s--

Dear radiator,
so this is what it’s like to look like my father
so this is it
cut my hair with scissors and they fell
like blades of grass onto a puddle
blood flow motorized
underneath my neck like clockwork
as the razor quickens
soft and regular strokes like hunger
I sing
cradle
the fleece shirt in my arms
like a child
and never let go

the conscious synapse
goddamn electricity in the rafters of his
parents house, hornets, in the heat, his
clothing on the hot water contraption, the naked chest
my eyes are snakes, my eyes are it,
plastic covers on the furniture inside,
chlorine breath, he told me in whispers,
just chlorine breath, the underneath on his palms mountains,
just mountains just the night and us around my waist

I sing
who was the story of our kind
I am the raptor up above the world
to find you is only a matter of time
but when my beak purges my body of it’s heart
I wonder how long it will take to unwind
I wonder if the ground is mine
where is the divine without the divine

Dear radiator,
you’re hot on my hand, dry cigarette taste
burns the edge like a smile muttering memory is sanity
is the same way water is life.
the far away basement window.
so this is it. the city
in the night.

when I am waiting for the giant rats
to come down from the ceiling I sing,
goddamn crowd cheering; my inside corner
bases loaded t-ball strikeout, his eyes glazed
on the highway, who knew cars moved
they are far away so quick, the cats mewing,
sat on the porch until dinner ever day
for a month, waiting for the boots to come home.
I sing he saw me last in Concord with a slur
told me theloveinsidemeanseverything, desperation
is coming out of his mouth like a ghost, thehomeinsidemeans
his ribcage is pulling my bed apart and apart and I sing
when my arms get light and my eyes get
bright and my body finally gets a father figure
in the lessons of Cortez the cat whiskers
kept me warm and I played a 1986 keyboard
when they screamed in the kitchen
I sing when you eat you drool
because I guess you realize there’s nothing left to lose
the baby eighteen years later hasn’t seen divorce papers
couldn’t even say if you’re alive
but I guess living is relative
and the ocean, when you skipped rocks
with me, plop into the waves, try to reverse the current
you said, try to remember my name.

Dear radiator,
I never liked the radio either
Or musical theater; my voice cracks gravel
and I abandoned cutoffhome
indulged in infidelity
I know god is out to get me
my best friend hung himself in his dormroom
I lie here with you and a broken broom
there is no moon, just a shirtless man in a mirror
clean shaven and pure; a whirring in the ceiling
or the skitter in the sky soft like hunger myeyes
twitter like a stomach, they feast until they are full
disassociate the life,
and then build it back up
until the head is parched
and the heart is purged
and you can finally
rest

so, this is it.
#2
a small opaque dot.
This will be used to remind the lazy teenager to crit your piece.
#3
For what it's worth, right now you're my favorite writer in S+L.

Pieces like this remind me why.



I'll try to come back to this. Yeah I know I said that last time too.
#6
The final two stanzas where hectic,
and the whole piece was amazing.
also your titles always catch my attention, they are great.
this one is for you.
#7
This was "fun" to read. Intense no doubts; last stanzas the only one that really hit hard with me though. The rest hit... but paled in comparison; which makes them feel like a lot of build-up. No idea how to fix that; or if it even needs fixing... just something I noticed.
#8
Quote by #1 synth
w/e. I'm well on my way to the bottom of some sort of scary bucket, we'll see what I find.

Questions of Hunger and Poetry with a Radiator. Were we ever s--

Dear radiator,
so this is what it’s like to look like my father
Repeated "like" came out weird when I read it aloud.
so this is it
cut my hair with scissors and they fell
Referring to hair as a singular thing and then saying "they" also felt awkward.
like blades of grass onto a puddle
blood flow motorized
underneath my neck like clockwork
as the razor quickens
soft and regular strokes like hunger
I sing
cradle
the fleece shirt in my arms
like a child This line felt unnecessary both when read aloud and as content.
and never let go
Other than the nitpicks I had above, I really liked this stanza. There's obviously emotion behind it but you restrain yourself and draw me deeper in .
the conscious synapse
goddamn electricity in the rafters of his
parents house, hornets, in the heat, his Maybe a line break after house, and I would get rid of the comma after hornets.
clothing on the hot water contraption, the naked chest I hated "hot water contraption", to be honest.
my eyes are snakes, my eyes are it,
plastic covers on the furniture inside,
chlorine breath, he told me in whispers,
just chlorine breath, the underneath on his palms mountains,
just mountains just the night and us around my waist
Another strong stanza, although you might have used more line breaks, in keeping with the first stanza.
I sing
who was the story of our kind
I am the raptor up above the world
to find you is only a matter of time
but when my beak purges my body of it’s heart
I wonder how long it will take to unwind
I wonder if the ground is mine
where is the divine without the divine
Every rhyme here fit well except for "time". That whole line seemed rather cliche, and slightly out-of-flow. Loved the second line and the last line.
Dear radiator,
you’re hot on my hand, dry cigarette taste Taste? Maybe a sense that doesn't have me imagining you licking the radiator.
burns the edge like a smile muttering memory is sanity
is the same way water is life.
the far away basement window.
so this is it. the city
in the night.
Other than that pissy little complaint, nada.
when I am waiting for the giant rats
to come down from the ceiling I sing,
goddamn crowd cheering; my inside corner
bases loaded t-ball strikeout, his eyes glazed
on the highway, who knew cars moved
they are far away so quick, the cats mewing,
sat on the porch until dinner ever day every?
for a month, waiting for the boots to come home.
I sing he saw me last in Concord with a slur
told me theloveinsidemeanseverything, desperation
is coming out of his mouth like a ghost, thehomeinsidemeans
his ribcage is pulling my bed apart and apart and I sing
when my arms get light and my eyes get
bright and my body finally gets a father figure
in the lessons of Cortez the cat whiskers
kept me warm and I played a 1986 keyboard
when they screamed in the kitchen
I sing when you eat you drool
because I guess you realize there’s nothing left to lose "nothing left to lose" made me wince. But you might want to keep it for the rhyme.
the baby eighteen years later hasn’t seen divorce papers
couldn’t even say if you’re alive
but I guess living is relative
and the ocean, when you skipped rocks
with me, plop into the waves, try to reverse the current
you said, try to remember my name.
Great build-up
Dear radiator,
I never liked the radio either I forget what the term is, but these two lines fit together incredibly well.
Or musical theater; my voice cracks gravel
and I abandoned cutoffhome
indulged in infidelity
I know god is out to get me
my best friend hung himself in his dormroom
I lie here with you and a broken broom
there is no moon, just a shirtless man in a mirror
clean shaven and pure; a whirring in the ceiling
or the skitter in the sky soft like hunger myeyes
twitter like a stomach, they feast until they are full
disassociate the life,
and then build it back up
until the head is parched
and the heart is purged
and you can finally
rest

so, this is it.


Well, I tried my best to nitpick it and point out technical problems. Your style and I are still trying to come to terms with each other. Reading over this again, I would say that at points it is choppy in how it is worded (not in the flow), but that fits in with stream of consciousness writing and all that. In any case, not the best I've ever read from you, but the easiest to connect with since Union Square Snow (and a Moon)... way back in November I think.
Yeah I don't know why I remember that piece... I guess it made an impression on me. In any case I'll stop blabbing now. Nice work.

EDIT: If you have the time and inclination, please take a look at the piece in my signature. Yes, that's right. I'm going back to old crits and begging for returns.
Last edited by Hesh at Feb 5, 2009,
#10
I wanted to nitpick, I wanted to be able to crit this, but ive read it over and over, and still i can not find fault. Captivating and from start to finish, and you have created such a powerful scene and character. Wow, is all the response needed.
#12
I thought a lot of the glorious middle section was lost in the length. I personally didn't feel it needed to be this long. The opening section started the piece off wonderfully and the ending tried to tie everything together, but didn't quite do it because of the branching imagery and writing techniques in the middle section.
There was no doubt some absolutely beautiful lines in here, some of the best I have ever read. But, like all great writing, it needs to be treated with respect. No matter how many one liners you have, it's just one line. Nothing more. It's like a song with fifteen different brilliant riffs that don't quite compliment each other in the way that you might of desired. There is too much going on in the song, in other words. And not enough clarity or simple intensity.
Now, this is only not necessarily a big quibble that I have, it's more something that I have always found difficult about your writing. I do feel this was more of an exception in that you started it simply and ended it with a strong, sturdy attempt to tie it all together. You need those hands at the side to balance the child if he falters. A lot of your work doesn't have that figure.

Great stuff. A truly epic read. I hoping to continue reading this and enjoying it more and more.

Digitally Clean
#13
You're developing a cool, consistent tone and use of imagery, which along with some wonderful sonics gave this agin several great lines, which I found pleasing.

I still think you're too overblown and melodramatic for your own good, though. Could do with some trimming and focus, in my opinion. While you as the poet may want us to know every detail, we as the reader just need the important bits. It sometimes reads like you don't do much editing or re-thinking, and it becomes too self-centred in that the writer is keeping the bits in he wants while forgetting he's writing for a reader.

Kind of like a film, some scenes need to be cut etc. In my eyes you're still carrying too much flab in your pieces, when I think you can be so much more hard-hitting.

Anyways, "voicr cracks gravel" was a nice twist.

Thanks ma man.

"the lines" in my sig, if you could Dyl. Don't worry if not, I probably owe you some.
#14
thank you a lot Dan and Jamie. really helps actually and I will take it to heart. You are both spot on in your critiques, completely.

Jamie, very happy to see you sticking around and posting more, no matter how much I'll bash your stuff you know I missed reading you.

you both.

oh, and Kyle