#1
Criss-crossing paths with the
anti-particles of my past;
just a phantom in the long line
of sing-song hums
and droning thumbprints
against the door marked
enter...
but we all exit with no remorse
as we hope to find a lover
with lower expectations
than the one that left us
for hunch-backed Sally

And across the carpets
(that haven't been cleaned)
she raises a brow to my glass
zings to my zang and
shrills in a vibrato that makes
my ear drums cry
and my liver wish I'd drank
just a bit more before

I wish I could go backwards
like positrons
to the point before she spoke
when I was still infatuated
and not repulsed by
the ignorance upon her tongue
when life still had meaning
in the burning of my thighs
in the meager hope that
she just might not come across
as useless as her Jersey Shore shoes
hinted she might be
That maybe her beauty could
run through to core
but alas
they called her Maybelline
#2
Still running with the particle physics stuff, huh. Well it works for you.
I think a pretty nice read, but it might have been too long and wordy, and nothing really stood out to me.
A case of good but not great.
#3
I disagree with fire's apathy. I love this. It's fantastic, and after class I'll tell you why.

edit: class was canceled. which is a terrible thing, because I've been looking forward to that class all day. the professor is really cute. but she's also sick, so I suppose it's better that she be feeling better than I get my fix on listening to her [gorgeous and passionate] broken english for two hours.

anyway. the poem.


Criss-crossing paths with the
anti-particles of my past;
just a phantom in the long line
of sing-song hums
and droning thumbprints
against the door marked
enter...
but we all exit with no remorse
as we hope to find a lover
with lower expectations
than the one that left us
for hunch-backed Sally

this is amazing. take the themes and run with them. love the door metaphors and playfulness. wondering if there's something more to the hunch-backed sally line and also if I'm missing a popular reference. second half of the stanza rocks. 'droning thumbprints' is my only problem here, because I don't like the flabby, dull sound in contrast with the second half. but seriously good nevertheless.

And across the carpets
(that haven't been cleaned)
she raises a brow to my glass
zings to my zang and
shrills in a vibrato that makes
my ear drums cry
and my liver wish I'd drank
just a bit more before

zings to my zang. (sweet.) the imagery here is consistent with what you started with, but a little more bland. no faults, but I'm just not swept off my feet.

I wish I could go backwards
like positrons
to the point before she spoke
when I was still infatuated
and not repulsed by
the ignorance upon her tongue
when life still had meaning
in the burning of my thighs
in the meager hope that
she just might not come across
as useless as her Jersey Shore shoes
hinted she might be
That maybe her beauty could
run through to core
but alas
they called her Maybelline

I think the magic here is more in the spoken part of it. when I first read it, I read it aloud and lovedlovedloved it, but sitting here reading it over it doesn't lose the magic, but it's a little less mesmerizing. I suppose that happens, like when we first started reading the lyrics to our favorite lines, without listening to the music simultaneously. I can assure you, despite what your GREs announced, that your grasp on english is indeed pretty firm, except for that silly concept of punctuation

I have a lot less to say about this now than I did earlier, and for that I apologize, but know that I like this piece, and don't stop with the particle physics poetry - it's wonderful to know that art and science still mix in some dimensions, in some laboratories, and that ink and paper still love each other enough to not divorce yet.

thank you.
Last edited by spike_8bkp at Oct 26, 2011,