Re: a comment on You can go no further. by Dovina	11-May-06/4:34 PM
Oh, we just can't get along without you, wilco. Please come back. And bring only the good guys with you.
Re: a comment on You can go no further. by Dovina	11-May-06/4:32 PM
I am almost always amazed when someone says that a poem is my best, or one of my best. Not that I mind hearing it, but it’s usually something I threw together. My masterpieces seem to languor in everyone’s mind but mine. Still, thanks for the comment. Zeno’s arrow is an interesting comparison. That paradox is about motion being really rest, while mine is about infinite distance being really finite. Mine is based on the perception of distance from a viewpoint near the ground. In both Zeno’s arrow and my road, the paradox can be eliminated from a more encompassing point of view. I was trying to get at the idea of narrowly defined geometry and how a science of distance can stem from an observer’s false common sense. I hope the ridiculousness of the narrator’s conclusions can also be seen pointing to other false conclusions drawn from wrong points of view. Thanks for your comment.
Re: a comment on Glorious Turncoat, I Shall Return by Ranger	9-May-06/11:12 AM
He enjoys babble. It doesn't have to be quasi.
Re: Cookies Won't Cut It by Sunny	5-May-06/7:55 PM
You've made this, inconsiderately, beyond a cabernet-soaked mind. Still, "knew how her pain soaked into his body," is where I want to be if such crap ever saps my enigma.
Re: Before Dinner by D. $ Fontera	5-May-06/7:41 PM
Morter and pestal, a short melding before dinner - how sweet. Pierce the doorway - how enticing. Yes.
Re: a comment on Wombs and wounds by Caducus	5-May-06/7:36 PM
You are the survivor where the others died in disbelief. You are the one who pererveres where the others turned tail. Carry on Ranger, the forest reamins and will survive.
Re: Wombs and wounds by Caducus	5-May-06/7:33 PM
Love is the epitome of unexpected. Carry the living from fantasy to fraternity. Mine are beneath trees too, by merlot and a farm in the hills. Love is a new pair of shoes he bought me because "You are worth it." worshipped by a stallion man who healed my heart fron a dagger's blow. Love is a word it's definition is who gives it who leaves it who breaks it who grieves. I am a griever an unbeliever snatched to belief broken, but spoken clean unlovable become loved dark, lonesome, angry, sad taken, given mouth-to-mouth revived, a womb to sleep in to feel warmth again.
Re: Death by rabbit by INTRANSIT	4-May-06/1:19 PM
At least he knocked them on the head. That's humane, compared to slitting their throats while they hang shaking scared by their hind feet. Maybe you had this in mind also - feeling pain just before the warm trickle; that would not be so if they are knocked out first. You make too much of the container, I think. Does it matter what it's made of and lined with? It used to bother me too. Good poem.
Re: Glorious Turncoat, I Shall Return by Ranger	2-May-06/7:15 PM
I don’t want to be motherly or take you under a wing as a mate of God might, and I know this seems overbearing, but here we go: A riverborn reflection, Winter jaded, white on green, Once a laden oak, Now, statuesque as memory, Seemingly awake, remembering The year's last caterpillar, A copper spark - hue dash, Spinning, Uncertainly settling into his woven urn, Like a zealous acrobat rocking under shade. That spread-leaf (oaks don’t have needles) undead tree let the wind cry, Giving voice to his skin, To the caterpillar: "Why do you hang here, Away from the others in their wind-chime chatter? Do you fear the hollow resonance? You, butterfly, shall be adored in equal measure, Sustained by sap and leaf, Though I shall be cut down by those who planted me Many winters ago When water trickled. Then I drew from that well of life eternal. (cliché – change this.) Now see, I bring a symbol of violence Here on this hill in praise of the sun. Still you are silent, Named and broken. What will your wings resemble when you appear from this web? Your coat will turn, Leaping about, zesty as rays upon silver.” “The cost of transformation you will not find; Thirty tears will buy your passage. Nor will you reckon with those who dig my grave; These gardeners are warriors. Gleaming blades will strike, and they, the marchers, They will seek my crown through the crossing of thorns, For the carpenter I am, For the writer I am. From afar, I will be spied And hear their chant: 'He, a Zeus of nature! Cast him down to leave his print- Let him lie in a sealed tome Let him carry the messages of Man' On the wind I shall hang like you, caterpillar, Light among zephyr and rain until salvation." I like the Biblical image, the transformation of caterpillar as life after death, perhaps. Not sure what the dead oak tree represents – could be the Bible or old tradition now gone.
Re: a comment on A predator’s Joy by Dovina	2-May-06/4:04 PM
Yeah, you could take it that way, but I was thinking of smut. I read your new one. It will take some digesting, and I must go now. Will get back to it. Thanks for commenting; few do anymore.
Re: a comment on A predator’s Joy by Dovina	2-May-06/3:30 PM
No decent philosopher would lie outside the village where sewage flows and garbage cans stink and abortions are hidden, conceiving tomorrow’s work.
Re: a comment on A predator’s Joy by Dovina	2-May-06/3:26 PM
Only a particular philosopher.
Re: Picture beneath the painting by Caducus	2-May-06/3:14 PM
"sodomy" stnds out as a misfit, but maybe it's there for some reason, If so, it's not given. I like Verse 2 because it's what I do each day. But it's about a painting, and like most of yours, gives not-quite-enough, not as much as I want.
Re: a comment on A predator’s Joy by Dovina	2-May-06/3:05 PM
Thanks. I did some of this. See edit.
Re: colourful cavalcade by pollywolly	1-May-06/4:24 PM
Nice description, except for the twice used "crimson."
Re: a comment on Jesus Around Your Neck (Final Version) by Wakeboarder20	1-May-06/12:12 PM
Good edit. "Spit upon the life of all" seems too strong. "All" is too all-inclusive.
Re: Upon a Visit to My Lonesome Father by mtk0630	1-May-06/12:06 PM
I imagine it sung to viola drone in a minor key. A fine song for lonely drunk. The key line: "I reject the nature of this life, his gift, and so, reject mortality." That line could turn the whole song into something positive, depending on the music.
Re: “16 Monks in Procession-Bagan Myanmar” – by Pier Poretti by Sunny	1-May-06/11:55 AM
I see the painting's description, but don't get what you are saying. Goelogic fog? Are they really denying the fog, or ignoring it?
Re: Dying Rooms by longships	1-May-06/11:51 AM
I know this happens. We seldom hear about it. I know a woman from Taiwan who escaped from such torture and is now in the US. She is the exception. I don't how you can improve this poem. When a situation is this bad, all you can do is tell it like it is. The word "love" is jarring, because it is not really love; I would use another word.
Re: Before Departing by italenrico	30-Apr-06/11:40 AM
Good. A sentiment well expressed. But how do you know the fevered sleep is far gone?