Reviews for Lanthanide Series
Spindel chapter 11 . 4/17/2003
All i can really describe this as is wow. This is such a great collection of poetry here. its obvious that a lot of time was spent here.
Kievsky chapter 10 . 3/28/2003
Ah carbon...the basis of life and the remains that speak of the world's past and forever mark and measure age. I love the continuity in this one, not only how the lines connect but how the science driving it all is ongoing and how the proverbial (allegorical?) fish rises from the ancient mires. I like this one best of the Lanthanide Series.

Overall you used great imagery in all the poems and it was stylistically cool to see how you used the elements both to characterize the people and also these people to personify each element. Great stuff.
Kievsky chapter 7 . 3/28/2003
I think the elements you chose for the Billy sections are particularly interesting because unlike lanthanum or cadmium, his elements are very well known for distinct properties. Billy must have two faces, one appearing strong and solid when at heart he is really volatile and cannot exist alone. He wants to move fast and burn out and will fall apart unless he can join another element and only then can he survive in stability. But that's just how I see it.
Kievsky chapter 2 . 3/28/2003
Your imagery is particularly striking in this one. It's more heated, more intense and focused, than some of the other poems especially in integrating the pain in "Guernica" and the Sword of Damocles. It has an illicit feeling about it and the pace is frantic; it draws the workings of the world around David and Michael.
sweetspontaneous chapter 2 . 3/23/2003
i love this. it feels like staying up all night or walking out in the snow at midnight, after the storm ends. mindblowing.

did you know, robert frost called poetry "a momentary stay against confusion." i think that is what this is.
sweetspontaneous chapter 6 . 3/23/2003
have you ever read g.m. hopkins? this is like hopkins, or e.e. cummings, or both. i'd just like to reiterate that this absolutely blows my mind. amazing.
sweetspontaneous chapter 4 . 3/23/2003
god...this is gorgeous. i adore everything about your use of language. there's something very poetic about chemistry, i've always thought- or is that just downright strange?
aintawoman chapter 2 . 3/18/2003
Picasso! Geurnica... and very timely i may add...

i must so apologize for taking leeave of and missing your wonderful poetry! i don't know how i am EVER going to catch up.

i so enjoy your writing, you are so impecably good!
Paradoxical Goddess chapter 4 . 3/16/2003
*mumbles* ah

i am seriously unworthy. :(
Paradoxical Goddess chapter 2 . 3/16/2003
your poetry makes me want to cry. but in a good way. (well and in an infinitely frustrated but awed way too)
E. Gao chapter 2 . 3/16/2003
The quiet angels who

held hands in Guernica

in the new year have a

love of inner workings

and the chemistry of

humans, it seems as

though their half-lives

don't matter much anyway when all they see is their hand, tightly grasped in the other's.

Lanthanium wants to devour them but

because they are quiet angels it will

only succeed in melding their hands tighter together.

David is a comet himself, but he

does not yet realize it; he is

not alone of course, but he is

also with the stars hurtling down

to earth, the old earth with its

miniature burning craters and its

remnants of godlet visitors scattered across the gulfs and wartorn cities.

It is interesting that the chromium anion has

the most exceptions, or maybe it's lewis's

conspiracy; Michael cares about it only out

of love and only for the heart of history to

come claim him while his back dusts the ancient

shelves and his clinical laughter reminds the

birds of the view from geographic mathematical mountaintops.

Hydrogen is everywhere and so is Matt.

Matt's breath, Matt's sweat, Matt's self.

The only thing missing is the sleeping,

smiling girl who wishes to breathe and

live in Matt's air. If sleep comes so

certainly then so does spring, for spring

is merely the awakening of the earth from its certain sleep. Matt sleeps as well.

The stars

shine for

everyone

but especially

for brian and

billy because

they are

the ones

that do not

take their

hands away

even when

the fire-

crackers

threaten to

explode against

the night

sky and it

lights up

like a sea

of burning

magnesium.

They do

not flinch

and for that

they they

they are

challenging

everything,

even spring,

and that

is why the

reactions

do not

burn them.

Billy knows the importance

of rescuing sodium from its

solid state and taking the

backroads that have no stop

signs, but that does not

matter for no one will die,

at least not yet, not while

the roads are wet and taste

of salt, not while cities

fall under god's wrath, not

while the small scientific

miracles are still being

worked and not while people still cannot see past the nearest star.

Brian times the velocity of the rain and the magnitude

of the scars on his hands, although they have all been

washed away by summer's presence and humming wires of

fused elements, the plaster cold and silent as ever.

He wonders about the safety of optical flying because

watching the cars speed by from such a high altitude

makes summer seem so much closer and because no matter what his mouth will not close and his hands will not enlarge.

When Billy entered

the elaborate palace

there was no home-

coming celebration,

there were no upside-

down eggs and thus

no cake batter. No

matter to Billy, he

will simply sit and

think and wonder

what the water tastes

like outside. He

thinks that nothing

will ever be the same

inside the concentric

eggs of the universe.

Science and faith have never butted

heads so easily and in such a friendly

way, but then again if angels can live

in the mind of brave Milton then so can

paintings that originate from the center

of the world. And certainly, certainly

you do not feel the pain of the young

because oh, you palm the fires of the sun

with such gorgeous ardor, as if each heartbeat were proof of the angels that reside on earth.

Kyle is frantic, and he is the

frantic movements of life that

appear with any sort of change;

it is why hours of foreign words

are needed and why outdoors

activity breeds discourse and

why he does not sleep when Matt

does. He does not remember

because he has gallopped for

days and spoken hours of new-

age Latin, conjugated so his

hands do not have to be broken

like crumbly bread over the hearth-flame that silently heats up the world.

EG