Oh I see, it's a loose metaphor for you.

I'm sorry I was mean to you before. I guess we're pretty similar really. I've been cutting myself for three years how about you? I guess I like the feeling of power it gives me. I only wish others could see the pain inside. That's why I like poemranker people really understand here. Tell us your heart. xx

Cotton bow'ls.

Well done Jeremi! Your poetry is really coming along now.

The whole affair seem pretty much like this sometimes. Good rhythm. You put the feeling accross; that's what I like.

A bit melodramatic, but I can feel it.

I sincerely hope that you're not really cutting yourself....but if you are then I would like to make the suggestion (perhaps unwanted) that you see your doctor about getting some antidepressants that ARE yours. I did like your poem though, by the way.

I'll give this a 10 if you send me a tape recording of yourself reading it in a deep wizardy voice.

Isn't oleander poisonous? I don't know the New Hampshire flora, but like the feel and flow of this. If only I knew what it means.

I don't get _sheer_ adornments, but that's my only word-choice problem (though I'd love to see someone call oleander what it is for once: rhododendron.) I too have only the vaguest idea what it's about - some kind of forest spirit, I'd guess.

"The best art clothes the truth," is a little twitchy. I'd at least reword it with clothes as a noun/metaphor/whatever.

I like the thought behind this - I'm going to suggest a word change - and its pretty ironic too, considering what I just posted (and zodiacs love of it) - funny thing is I would suggest the same regardless of what I posted.. anyway... consider changing "clothes" to "adorns" - both for the word choice and also for the aliteration. I like "imagining" there.

Thank you both, but neither "clothes" nor "adorns" seems right anymore for what art should do for truth or clothes for a woman. Maybe "decorate."

I'm sizzling as I get busy. Sitting on the hob is the chip pan O! Why did I seat My flammable rear At such an inopportune time? -7-

You know, alcohol works just as well. There lives near the home of this dude A girl who I've never seen nude Her dress sense is blessed But I wish she'd wear less Right, fuck this, I'm off for some food Cheerio old boy

Consider the lily. Invigorated spandangled horsemonkey

Although every man shall be measured by the length of his rod, I cannot help but feel that frolics on a summer's day would be qualified better with a hint of Spain.

What if 'yourself' is a Hitler-esque dictator, convinced that the Jews should be killed? Oh go on. -5-

10.

The only part of this which isn't sublime is "we are no more in the fields / that raised bohemia..." I think it's just too loud and heavy for such a whispered poem. Sounds like something you'd have to say in John Kerry's voice. "One must at least / build the wall they splash / with plaster" is great - a small voice.