The style's quite different from your usual, and I really, really like it. Especially these lines: a pouring pale,/a laying of warm hands for all Canada, carried you from the desert to the gallery, and stanza iii in its entirety.
Hope you were looking for comments on this one. :-)
Oh, thanks. My my my. I haven't been to livepoets in a couple of weeks and it's killing me. I think I might be in more of a production phase than an editing phase, though, and so I don't want to get too self-conscious. Everything I post here is up for honest criticism (even, as I say, "drown the dog")...
I actually think you're really brilliant with imagery; perhaps I need to learn a thing or two from you about rhythm. Your poems dance, whether happy or sad; they flail at times.
oh wow. are you from the upper midwest or upstate new york? i have a running joke with my upstate new york friends about my calling that kind of hat a "toboggan", which is what we called them in the south. maybe because we had no need for sleds? they claimed it was a tuque, which i had never heard of. or a "winter hat" which is just boring.
Canada. My dad grew up in Quebec and my mom in the Ottawa valley. I grew up on top of the Niagara escarpment (the cliff that Niagara falls, erm, falls over) and I now live in Ottawa (the nation's capital). We say most things the same, but I guess tuque is an oddity. You called it a toboggan? That, my friend, is pretty funny.
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The style's quite different from your usual, and I really, really like it. Especially these lines: a pouring pale,/a laying of warm hands for all Canada, carried you from the desert to the gallery, and stanza iii in its entirety.
Hope you were looking for comments on this one. :-)
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I am the wicked wind who sloughs
off his face in a dusty heap, that
only meant to hold it.
That is brutal, wonderful.
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