I feel pretty silly reviewing, considering you wrote this more than three YEARS ago, but I was cleaning out my favorites and started to read your poems... "and now everything/tastes like saying his name,/and looking outside a window/at a Delphic streetlamp, which says in a drawly tone/"he is like my light. he is unreachable./you are running/for you own health now"

three years. can you remember your words?

how true.

The focus on the hair is excellent, especially with the way you've scattered them throughout and also bracketed some of them. Lovely writing, again.

All I can say is I love this, how it's sad but so resigned to his departure, and the streetlamp's lines are quick but so full of feeling. He sounds so wonderful to have known.

*goggles at the weird formatting*

I like the similarity, his hair looking like wheat, and he is delivering cake, but I love the later half of the poem, because it is very wistful and very becoming of you.

You made me happy with this one. I love the references to Thoreau. Lindsey, do you go to a private school? and not a regular public school? because the only people i have ever met who could write so and also had knowledge and opinions about American history and literature as you do were either college students or homeschooled . . .

In your poem, I'm not sure if you're comparing someone to Thoreau, or else using Henry David as a metaphor for someone. Or is the poem about him wholly?

AUGH!

HAIR!

(wow, do I sound like an uneducated fangirl)

O_O the sad thing is, it's about someone totally unrelated to HAIR (who I'm guessing is jason? perhaps maybe?) and yet I can just SEE that wheatfield hair.

the rest of the imagery is splendid, powerful as well. very heartwrenching, this. [pat]

EG

this is more direct than your usual style, i think, but it works just as well. i like the sense of calm in it...and thoreau, of course...also the last two lines are lovely.