Good but could be great if it weren't so hopeful.

The first verse is great, except for heavenly mirth. It's all pretty good.

An Emily Dickenson approach to explicit infatuation.

Such a complex way of talking. My head hurts.

And with this statement, England declared war on Los Angeles today, asserting itself as the most lewd.

Clearly a miracle.

While this has some words I truly love, they don't seem particularly poignant in their usage. This is a poem of cliches (every line!?), and while I have to hope that was the point, I'm missing any deeper meaning.

that's about all there is to be said for that.

Head hurts, yes. Can't quite follow every line. Yet I like it greatly. I think I've got a measure of the whole of it. No suggestions on where I fall. Something to be read and re-read.

I'm afraid I can't tell what you're saying here.

This I like.

congratulations. first 0 I've read in some time. :)

I see.

This needs more development for me. I want to experience vicariously the depths of ennui.

too "stated" for me.

oy.

yes. almost very yes. cadence s2 is off, for me. the image s1 (making the tigers drink from you?) is stranger than the rest. Though ... I see it. But it's still far stranger than the rest. Why must she have seen you weep? How she's acting must be derived from that, or just because she couldn't have missed it? s4 has pretty lines, but they don't gel for me. cadence off a bit as well. Where the piece runs to is beauty (dead as dead can be a bit flat itself, but works).

cute last line with the setup. weak setup.

Gold is down there too, and a host of unseen and unseeable magnets. Digging can mean all these things and more. It seems like a listing of diggables.

Good, except for the diatribe title and first line. It's better to remain subtle.