#1
Jill van de Water is composed of powder, dark paisley,
high-waisted jersey dress, and folded paper, reading
Joyce at Columbia in the winter of sixty-seven.

Forty years later I'm scouring her blueballpoint
Margin notes chasing down what I've found to be the key thing:
Into which lithe white hand to place the detested pen?

Her Ulysses, hard-green and cloth-bound, hasn't followed a tortuous path
Along its life till now, till my bedroom where I first met her at nineteen.
After all, women who write such notes in Joyce, they do not leave New York.

Two children went through Dalton and made their own way from there.
A sleeping husband who manages hedge funds, a big apartment midtown
That's warm with wooden floors and minimalism on the walls. Ithaka.

I was born too late to love her whole without the knowledge of the handed pen,
In handwriting so exquisitely hid! 'Parallax' perplexes but proffers no clue.
Without words love is a weird, unfocused thing that feels like invasion.

Jill van de Water awake in bed feels a suffocating pressure in her chest,
"Will never marry" past promises, inspired by the sense-memory of
accepting real love, come unbidden, yet she allows them to recline and respire.

I was born too late to love her, but I will enter her body.
I will enter her body as long as it exists. I will make her big with seed
And she will give birth in the waters of the Lethe. I will return to Ithaka.
#6
Sorry for the ages-old bump

I'm thinking about submitting this poem to a couple of publications and I'd like to tweak anything that needs tweaking before then


missed yall school is hard
#8
This part jarred me a little bit: "Without words love is a weird, unfocused thing that feels like invasion." I think it was a little clumsy and didn't really fit the tone of the rest.

HOWEVER, holy **** how did I never read this before. I wholly agree with Matt and Dylan and think you should send this to every publication ever invented, save Popular Mechanics I suppose.
#9
who gives a **** send it to popular mechanics.

I love this and agree with the line that corey pointed out. I was gonna say the same thing. The rest was brilliant.
Anatomy Anatomy
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Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
#10
haha, speak of the devil.
a few days ago in the community thread we were talking about ninjas in these forums and i asked what happened to you, and here you are =D

anywho, yes, send her in, without question.
Promises meant a lot back then.
#11
That was great.
I enjoyed reading it alot
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#13
Quote by *Truly Ninja*
Jill van de Water is composed of powder, dark paisley,
is the powder necesary? I would just go straight to dark paisley, cleaner image. if you can find a stronger verb than "is" here than use it. any "to be" verb is a weak verb to use in the first line of any poem I feel.
high-waisted jersey dress, and folded paper, reading
first comma not necesary. i forgot this was a list, keep powder in the first line. the enjambment between this line and the next reads awkward but I don't know how I would change it.
Joyce at Columbia in the winter of sixty-seven.

Forty years later I'm scouring her blueballpoint
would focus on the ink as oppose to the pen as that is what composes the margin notes. just a triviality.
Margin notes chasing down what I've found to be the key thing:
cut this down. pare down the language/make the action less rounabout.
Into which lithe white hand to place the detested pen?
I don't like the double stacking modifiers for hand but it's your choice. Maybe a more vibrant modifier for pen?

Her Ulysses, hard-green and cloth-bound, hasn't followed a tortuous path
syn for tortuous, too many syllables now.
Along its life till now, till my bedroom where I first met her at nineteen.
After all, women who write such notes in Joyce, they do not leave New York.
wordy.

Two children went through Dalton and made their own way from there.
stronger verb for "made"
A sleeping husband who manages hedge funds, a big apartment midtown
That's warm with wooden floors and minimalism on the walls. Ithaka.

I was born too late to love her whole without the knowledge of the handed pen,
In handwriting so exquisitely hid! 'Parallax' perplexes but proffers no clue.
Without words love is a weird, unfocused thing that feels like invasion.

Jill van de Water awake in bed feels a suffocating pressure in her chest,
"Will never marry" past promises, inspired by the sense-memory of
accepting real love, come unbidden, yet she allows them to recline and respire.

I was born too late to love her, but I will enter her body.
I will enter her body as long as it exists. I will make her big with seed
And she will give birth in the waters of the Lethe. I will return to Ithaka.


I gotta go to class now actually but two main things here:

1. make your verbs stronger. is and made are almost never the most pertinant and fitting words for what you mean.

2. choose your modifiers carefully, every word counts.

3. anything unnecessary, cut it.

will be back if I can be.