#1
getting back into it


i was a spider,
crawling through trees and frightening children
and weaving nets to trap the little flying bugs and angels
and at night i would feed and worship the moon
with blood sacrifice, and i would hum and call out
to you

you were a water moccasin, and your venom
outpaced mine by factors of millions
and in the rain-specked forests people trod in fear of you
and they caught you with forked sticks and tore your neck in twain
i would mourn for i could do nothing else

the earth was a house built from fallen logs
and the foundations shuddered as we made our repose
in damp shadows, where my old haunts built up into sticky clouds
and crumbled to dust
and you would devour me and bite the small creatures that crawled in
and they lay and twitched as they died

the soul was a fish in a river of darkness
and in that glittering, flowing milky way it devoured stars and
sent planets careening off into the void
at its center laid a secret i could not bear to weave
and so i bound up my eyes and lay in a crook of branch
and you slithered on so stealthily
kill all humans
#2
I had to read this like 5 times haha. The more I read it, the more I liked it. Every time I read it I saw new things in the poem. I love the spider theme you embrace here. I also love the mystery of who or what "you" is -- which I am still trying to figure out since it does in one verse but lives on in a later verse. Is it nature itself?
#3
It seems you're already back into it...

I loved the imagery in this. I think the only thing I could maybe criticise in this is that the pace doesn't really change throughout, perhaps you could have used this to empahasise some of the dynamics in the metaphor you use.

This was a great read.
#4
There is something a bit entropic about it, fear and death and heartbreak enough to cause cosmic disintegration. Your ending has an odd sense of acceptance to it, not quite peaceful, but stilled.

I wonder about "little flying bugs" and "crook of branch." I think maybe there's potential for a little more grace in those phrasings. I hope the last couple years have been good to you.
#5
i agree^ "the crook of a branch" is the easy fix. I like it that way, at least. there's a moment or two like "and angels" that a part of me feels like shouldn't work, but I kind of like them, so maybe that's me being to stubborn to embrace a small oddity fully, but it also feels a little too much too soon. I'll think about it and maybe you should too, because maybe it would be better slightly differently.

i think the only problem i have with this (i really like it) is there is something not quite clearly working for me with the idea of death and souls and things--there is something final about the You's passing in the second stanza--beheaded and all, and the mourning--so when the slithering happens, it is so linked with the snake image, even the fish can't quite claim it cleanly, so I'm wondering where the regeneration happened (as well as to the spider/speaker). (I suppose there was biting in the stanza before that too). and now, the crook of branch thing feels like the speaker has taken on a human form. Basically, there is just a little too much suggestion of continuity for me to feel awash in the "chaos" that might actually be dictating the relationships between the stanzas. it's caught between having a narrative backbone and being 4 related moments that occur without narrative effect on each other. there could be a few small (or drastic) things that bridge these fractures, or place them and present them more purposefully and in their own right.

i honestly love what i'm reading, it's really beautiful, the ending is nicely done, and there is so much good going on throughout. maybe i'm not accepting the dreamworld fully enough, but i'm just not sure it's totally found it's finished shape, or the one that best serves the great writing you've got going here and that could be the difference between a good poem and a great one.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
#6
Congratulations on WotW!

I think 'crook of a branch' is appropriate for the flow of the piece; it's also as grammatically correct as it is poetic. 'Little flying bugs' sort of sets a vulnerable characteristic to the theme. Which felt natural, gritty, earthy, and at the same time, astrally lucid.

I really appreciate the subtle waves of ambience that increases with each verse.

It was nearly perfect!

But...

The end should read:
As you slithered on so stealthily.
Last edited by jpwesch at Apr 1, 2014,