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| Reviewed by Billy Cook |
5/3/2006 |
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The last stanza is so much better here than in "tramping, scrawling, scratching!" It's much more visual and says what you want to say in a much more visceral way.
This poem is a little morbid, as you say, but not altogether-- the core that the narrator digs for so deep is found and turned loose, astounding the remote star. This seemed like a kind of emotional or existential release to me. Anyway, the eruption seemed satisfying somehow when I read it. But then the narrator goes on to scrawl the secret dearth (the desolation, the lack of...?) I wonder how this poem would read if the first stanza became the last.... I would love for you to keep working on this-- it's such a terse, seemingly simple poem that the complexity "erupts" and "astounds" me. Great things are in this small package! |
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| Reviewed by Robin Spicer |
11/4/2005 |
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Bill this is an excellent piece.
It may be short but it is to the point, life can also be short.
Robin |
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