#1
It's been this way for weeks
We dropped the bucket down
but only mud came out
Davey takes it up with the birds
guarding their sacred carrion

Oh they're bleeding from the beak
and we cut our nails with our teeth
and they break off our feet
but sometimes it draws blood to drink
or at nights to dye our hair
in sleep

Oh shriveling skin and shivering
glass dangling from strings
clank clank in the breeze
Davey, can you handle the emptiness
of that ring?
Or the sky for miles around?

Oh Davey watches them sway empty all day
grabs hold the rope and lowers himself down
to suck on the mud
and he wont come out
He's making himself sick now
his teeth are all brown
and bugs bite at his eyes

Oh Davey's gone blind
and passed out in the ground
and he never saw
the rain but he felt it
and nearly floated to the top
but refused to look up
and we couldn't fish him out

Oh Davey deep under rocks
We collapsed the well
and placed the jars over top
Drove North for the winter
and didn't know when to stop.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
Last edited by jiminizzle at Oct 17, 2011,
#2
It's been this way for weeks
We dropped the bucket down
but only mud came out
Davey takes it up with the birds
guarding their sacred carrion
Good imagery, simple but capable of painting a great picture right off the bat.


Oh they're bleeding from the beak
and we cut our nails with our teeth
and they break off our feet
but sometimes it draws blood to drink
or at nights to dye our hair
in sleep
last 3 lines are slightly nonsensical, but otherwise a good stanza


Oh shriveling skin and shivering
glass dangling from strings
clank clank in the breeze
can you handle the emptiness
of that ring?
Or the sky for miles around?
Solid. Not a big fan of flat out rhetorical questions in poetry though.


Oh Davey watches them sway empty all day
grabs hold the rope and lowers himself down
to suck on the mud
and he wont come out
He's making himself sick now
his teeth are all brown
and bugs bite at his bruised eyes
A disgustingly pleasurable read.


Oh Davey's gone blind
and passed out in the ground
and he never saw
the rain but he felt it
and nearly floated to the top
but refused to look up
and we couldn't fish him out
Interesting, the last line seems a bit out of place, but I like how this stanza brings his impatient desperation full-circle with a bit of a subtle, underlying moral lesson.


Oh Davey deep under rocks
We collapsed the well
and placed the jars over top
Drove North for the winter
and didn't know when to stop.
Interesting, again. I like this but can't find much to say about it. Just simply well-written and well-delivered.

Overall, I enjoyed reading this. It was certainly original and painted a wonderful ballet of pictures in my head as I read along. I think a few places could use a slight bit of tinkering but it was a good read. A true exposition of the capabilities of simple imagery.
#3
Quote by jiminizzle
It's been this way for weeks
We dropped the bucket down
but only mud came out
Davey takes it up with the birds
guarding their sacred carrion

Oh they're bleeding from the beak
and we cut our nails with our teeth
and they break off our feet
but sometimes it draws blood to drink
or at nights to dye our hair
in sleep

Oh shriveling skin and shivering
glass dangling from strings
clank clank in the breeze
can you handle the emptiness
of that ring?
Or the sky for miles around?

Oh Davey watches them sway empty all day
grabs hold the rope and lowers himself down
to suck on the mud
and he wont come out
He's making himself sick now
his teeth are all brown
and bugs bite at his bruised eyes

Oh Davey's gone blind
and passed out in the ground
and he never saw
the rain but he felt it
and nearly floated to the top
but refused to look up
and we couldn't fish him out

Oh Davey deep under rocks
We collapsed the well
and placed the jars over top
Drove North for the winter
and didn't know when to stop.


This has the desert atmosphere of the southwest, in some ramshackle basement somewhere near truth or consequences. there's an old folks' home there, abandoned because the all patients died off, and they were the last of the population. their kids all went to the city to get degrees. the name speaks volumes. anyway. the poem.

First read through, I don't like the 'can you handle' line because it's seems like an extra challenge in a place where life is barely survival, and yes, I can handle the emptiness of the ring, but the ring rings empty for me. same with 'bruised.' Bugs biting his eyes is a great line, and hardly breaks the flow.

Daveydaveydavey, why did you have to die? The omniscient perspective of the corpse is a fun departure, especially when the reader's led to think that it still has characteristics of a living creature. Davey watches the things that we ignore, or refuse to see, and just like neutrinos which act differently when observed, Davey is the observer gaining the attention of the birds, the bugs, the rain. even when we try to fish him out of his perspective, he remains stoic. or floating. whichever. the parts of us which have died remain with the things we could not move on from, so sometimes we must collapse the well, collapse our knowledge and seek to accept something entirely new. the north.

And how can we know when to stop? surely, the road will end at some point, but if we haven't found what we were looking for by that point, perhaps it's where we belong. how else could we not know when to stop? Davey was ours, for all we are and were, our education and upbringing. if we cover Davey with rocks and jars of moonshine, we're leaving him in a comfortable place, where for now we can say we're just going for the winter, but those things we say when we don't yet want to mentally break away from a place we're physically attached to. "I'm just going for the winter" quickly turns into "I'm never going back to that place" when we DO figure out when to stop. And if we don't stop, well, the world may well be round, but it is not necessarily circular.

This poem is telling in the same way a Murder by Death song is sad: it is much more than the music, much more than storytelling instruments doing their job: it's an ungloved hand, reaching in and touching the parts that weren't meant to be touched: watching the watcher of that which does not know what it is to be watched. The melancholic finale is exclusive from the rest: you've admitted that it was about you. the insecurity in the last line is beautiful, where before you were full of the motion that seemed right at the time: what happens when we lose the sense of what seems right?