Good description. A few unnecessary words, I think. For example, "My senses being woven into cocoons" could be "senses woven into cocoons"

The most religious thing I've seen from you. What gives? I Like it a lot.

Too whimsical and non-specific for my taste, as if drunk on a quest, but it has some good thoughts.

Tribbles and squids? I'm not sure that's a good Idea. This is fun , except when it starts to go rapp-y.

Not sure I should. Don't know why she's upset, exactly.

I do appreciate the intended kindness extended toward me in this time of trouble. To be comforted to this degree of sweetness during a supposed affliction with Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease (CJD), a rare and fatal neurodegenerative disorder of unknown cause, carries a marked degree of gratification. The MOOOOOOOO at the end adds an affectionate touch, as if written by a bull being sucked by a deviant calf. I know where your heart is, so perhaps a more tender metaphor. Regards, Dovina

Not in the least.

From such wonderments come religion, notions of reincarnation, and calling up the dead. I think most of it is little more than what you gescribe here. Good poem. But why the ...'s

This is good. Drop the "thee".

Don Quixote, The Thinker, Jacob and now her. It's nice to see depression not of the teenage variety.

First I loved "fucked on the floor." (says it all) and the double meaning of "tenterhooks". Shouldn't it be "THE rabbit ears" unless you have more then one set. "into the dawning world" is the only somewhat cliche line in an otherwise clicheless poem. This poem reminds me of an even sadder moment in my life. I may just might write about it now. Thanks for inspiring me. -9-

Stay off the acid kid.

A vivid picture, I felt it all the way through.I've tried three times tonight, just can't write. Sooo, this is what I would do with this. If you like all or any, welcome. What voice could sing in joy of death Each leaf as it withers and dies fluttering down to mingle with the soil keeping it's host alive. this fitting requiem

I agree with Zodiac the last two lines of verse 2 say pretty much the same thing as verse 1. Otherwise it's good.

no

Immense.

one shot after another...the pistol being the drink...am I anywhere close...:) Bethy

Thank god someone knows what a prose poem is. Needs more emotion, less rambling.

This suggests I tried too hard on that last and only sonnet of mine. Fine by me.

Jeez, Cad. Why do I get the feeling that Giuseppe and Grand Papa are different men? Good morning? Good evening?