Interesting and very clever. Ha ha SUCK IT MOON!!!
Trust is like a mirror, able to be fixed if broken, but you can still see the cracks.
Writing is a form of personal freedom. It frees us from the identity we see in the making all around us. In the end, writers will write not to be outlaw heroes but to save themselves, to survive as individuals.
You lost me at “leopard-spots”. I was relishing in the airy skim over your first few lines- candid and trenchant and absurd in a way that made me dimple, when this awkward beast of a cluster word tripped me up! (It did sound a little better when I read it out-loud to myself. When I annunciated the spOT and slurred the lepurrrrrd.) But leopard, especially leopard with a hyphenated appendage, is a very ugly little adjective. It belongs in Notre Dame pinning after Esmeralda, not in your poem. Although I do appreciate the metaphor.
And of course, I also appreciated the rest of the poem. Which I liked, actually, though I usually turn my nose up at even the most comical and innocuous angst.
I felt “tickled” that the speaker got his/her revenge on the moon. The moon needed to be taken down a peg. Obviously it had gotten very cheeky.
Wow. I like that. That's all I can say . I like that. I'm really weird in some ways. Like talking to the moon and trees. But this one blows my mind. '67. Awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!
GREAT JOB AND KEEP WRITING!!!
~Kat
“There’s no point in being grown up if you can’t act a little childish sometimes.”-The Fourth Doctor "Who I was, what I did, that's not who I am." - Castiel "Friends protect you." - John Watson
So when I said, "I'll review this by Sunday," I'm glad I didn't specify which one...
But I said I would, so even though I'm short on time and any review from me is inconsequential now, here I am.
I've got to say that you have a very distinct voice. I can always tell when I'm reading something you've written. (That's a really, really good thing.) But this piece just doesn't sound like you. Your voice is there, under every subtlety and aside. But the essence of it... it's not enough for me.
With short stories, especially flash fiction, every word has to count. Every adjective has to do something. For example, if you wrote something like, "It was a bright, sunny summer day..." Bright and sunny? On a summer day? No way.
In this piece, you've got quite a few words that don't carry their weight. First off, the numbers are problematic. We can't connect with numbers. But if you give them meaning... For now, however, they're just numbers. (And you took away that tantalizing connection you had between ticks and dead people.) Now, I understand that that's the style, that's the sort of feel you're going for, but I don't think it's working. This piece is very surreal, almost silly, and yet you have all sorts of numerical measures floating around. Perhaps it does contribute to the overall atmosphere, but having read your poetry, I think you could do much better with a different device.
But when I look at this form a different angle, I like what I see. And I just figured out that I can't review a piece like this in such a short amount of time. All I've mentioned is just on the surface, and I'm not looking for any meaning besides the immediate. And to tell the truth, there's not much that's immediately there. Just some guy spouting numbers at a talking moon.
Overall, I like it a little, but because the meaning seems to be a bit inaccessible, I think you could easily do much better. Sorry this was so poor.
I love to read a post that makes me think. You have definitely made me think with this one. Wow, just brilliant. I can't applaud you enough. Your style and form were incredible and fresh and your words really just danced so beautifully together. I can't really describe it better than that. You are an amazing writer, and I hope you go far. Sorry the review isn't too long, but I'm really just speechless at this point. Ok. I think I'm going to read it just one more time xD You're awesome, keep it up!
~Jess
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“The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, When yesterday it was not.”
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