Rebekka

[tectak]

Hi milo,
Not interested in the content of this one...or more correctly, disinterested. I will stick to nit picking.
You can replace my coffee cup;
the chinked and scarred
and weather-stained
remnant of our breakfast table;
the last of solitude. Treating this stanza holistically, there are spaces in the intent. Why is the cup weather stained and does it matter? Why is it in need of replacement if it is all that's left and why does this matter? Will we find out in S2?

You can have Matthias kiss
my savior's blackened lips;
the sweet black of Christ's
dead lips or have him take
my heavy seat; the collaborator. Hyperspace shift. How did we get here. I only mentioned the cup because you did. Now we're all (too) lippy and black and profoundly connotative. Colonic evacuation here, too, but they, the semi colons, seem to be used as "breaks" in consideration...almost like this; actually, no, I take that back; no, dammit; that is what I meant. I think this stanza could be better formulated to say just one thing clearly. The "or" only adds to the confusion of choice.

And I will not betray you;
-and the unsaid accusation
echoes back at me- the "and" here following the "or-ness" of the previous stanza is too boolean for the spirituality of the message. Is this and/or/if/then (il)logical progression deliberate?
though you would throw
our doors open, welcome soldiers
in to boot-scar stairs and pull
the walnut bureau drawers;
rummage through our things
-upturn the nothingness
of photographs and
letters, underwear; cascade
our unlived lives onto the floor-
though you would rend your shirt
at the breast, offer up your secrets
at the breast; the collaborator. Fiery stuff but quelled by the deoxygenating blanket of over-punctuation. I feel I want a little air of my own, here. Rapidly listing transient thoughts gives psychiatrists great insight to inner thinking. Lot of breasts. Good name for a bra ," Collaborator".

And I will not betray you;
though you whisper a tormented
past across my unworn threshold,
though you carry plastic shopping
bags that tear with the weight
of abandoned clothing from
the quiet huddle of families hidden
in the root cellars or abandoned churches;
temples, though you double up "temples" is isolated by slapdash punctuation. Are you making some point, here? I just don't get this almost deliberate inconsistency of competence. Why this squall of sqiggly marks? Needs looking at. Getting very list-like.
with train-worn luggage; baggage,
and someone else's baby's shoes. Though technically correct I am now suspicious of the squiggles and think I would like " ...(no and) someone else's baby shoes" . I think that's what we say. Baby shoes....not baby's shoes. Hmmm.



And I will not tuck my hands
under your shirt and grope
about your breasts to find
a sack of silver or palm
about your pockets when
you find my lips in front of strangers. and,and,and more breasts please, and, and lips, too, yes., more lips and breasts.

milo

Thank god for something to champ down on....the soup was getting watery. This is not easy reading but read it I will.
Monday is my whisky night. I will return tomorrow. Too many ands not enough hands in final stanza. Easily avoided.
Balvenie Double-wood next.
Breast,
tocteak
All about how it sounds. I struggled with what it says. Does that matter? Probably not. I cannot help but feel that there is a very active nucleus in this one atom. Something is fizzing internally but it never quite meets up with enough mass to go critical. It is like, and here is my downfall metaphor, a damp nuclear bomb not quite going off. The punctuation makes it sputter along...always in imminent demise but still liable to go off in one's face. Content is a mystery. That's squared the circle. Did I enjoy the ride? Yes, I guess so. Mystery tour.
Best,
tectak[/b]