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Full Cold Moon

interloper's picture

Sat down by the cookstove
in a dirt-old house
on a bump on the lip
of a moraine.
Wind, winter, ocean cloistered sandbar.
Shut inside by cold fat sticky rain.

Pondering the knot upon 
               my jawbone.
Sorting stuff I think 
I own. 
Mapping out a fortnight on a train.

A loan, alone, a rolling stone.
Resolve, evolve, remove, escape........remain.
                   Plenilunar overdriven brain.


jrlewis's picture


There is some really great play with words and sounds in this piece.  I particularly like the line "A loan, alone, a rolling stone."  The penultimate line doesn't work quite as well for me.  The word, escape, doesn't fit in with the words, remove and remain.  I would suggest taking out the word, escape.  The end-rhyme is really nice.  It is subtle in the beginning of the poem and increases in frequency and regularity.  The sound of the poem becomes more ordered, whether or not the narrator's brain does.  In fact, the sound of the poem resolves nicely at the end.  For me, the sound diverges from the meaning of the poem.  It's a well-crafted juxtaposition. 

interloper's picture

Thank you.

I'm happy to hear you heard good sounds in this one. I think this is my favorite piece out of my own writing so far, so I'm glad to hear positive criticism. I will think about the word "escape" as it is used and how I feel about what you've said. 

I wonder if you or anyone would like to comment on some of the other elements and the peom's meaning or intent. I felt pretty good about some of the other things I did here, but I'm curious as to whether or not they make it across to the reader or not.

Your comments have given me new energy to complete some other works in progress.

Thank you.