Not For The Thin-Skinned

[annaswirls]

Catching up with the Dead

I made some changes to this poem, would be interested if anyone has any specific suggestions. I do not anticipate any long critiques, just basics would be very nice. I want to send this one out into the big world and I am not sure it is ready. I know I know "points don't matter" but this one got pretty stinky scores, and any recommendations will be seriously considered and greatly appreciated.

another revision:

Catching up with the Dead

“Baby it has been so long,
what do you want to talk about?”
You blurt, Spaghetti Sauce
and your shadow skitters out the door
sideways, knuckles down.

At first I laugh but now I understand,
you want me to tell you about
everything. How I still wait
until morning to clean up after,
pick the noodles dried into brittle curls
from the table cloth, rinse circles
of dried wine from the glass.

You want me to tell you how the children have grown,
how they haven’t. How they no longer
let me wet the napkin to wipe their faces.
You want to hear the sound
of dishes clinking under water
while we talk.

Do you remember the night
the baby woke up
crying for his lost balloon,
how the promise of other balloons
would not soothe him?

In your silence,
I felt your tears long to spill,
your lonely bones
wanting to be carried up to bed
to fall asleep while I touch your hair,
soak your aches.

He has forgotten about the balloon.
It is our memory now, one
that will not rinse easily.

I still watch for you sometimes
up, up out of my sunroof
your ribbon cut too short.





Catching up with the Dead

“Baby it has been so long,
what do you want to talk about?”
You blurt, Spaghetti Sauce
skitter out the door sideways,
knuckles down.

At first I laugh but now I understand,
you want me to tell you about
everything. How I still wait
until morning to clean up after,
noodles dried into brittle curls
on the table cloth,
wine evaporated into red circles
at the bottom of the glass.

You want me to tell you how the children have grown,
how they haven’t. How they no longer let me wet the napkin
on my tongue to wipe their faces. You want to hear the sound
of dishes clinking under water.

Do you remember the night
the baby woke up
crying for his lost balloon,
how the promise of other balloons
would not soothe him?
In your silence then, I could feel
your tears longing to spill, your lonely bones
wishing I could carry you up to bed
touch your hair, soak your aches.
He has forgotten about the balloon.
It is our memory now, one
that will not rinse easily.

I still watch for you sometimes
up, up out of my sunroof
your ribbon cut too short.

 

[bogusbrig]

Beat me if you want babe but do you really say baby or is an affectation? You use it a lot and sometimes I feel it really works but in this poem I feel it doesn't. Maybe its because you mention the real baby later in the poem.

That line at the bottom of the glass still irritates me, it just sounds too much and makes the poem stutter for me. You use the plural in circles and singular in glass. Shouldn't it be in the glasses ? If the glass has been standing it will be in the bottom of the glass anyway. If there is more than one circle in a glass, this means a lot of time has elapsed between the first drink and the last.

Sheeeeesssh I'm so anal. Shoot me!

 

[annaswirls]

Beat me if you want babe but do you really say baby or is an affectation? You use it a lot and sometimes I feel it really works but in this poem I feel it doesn't. Maybe its because you mention the real baby later in the poem.

That line at the bottom of the glass still irritates me, it just sounds too much and makes the poem stutter for me. You use the plural in circles and singular in glass. Shouldn't it be in the glasses ? If the glass has been standing it will be in the bottom of the glass anyway. If there is more than one circle in a glass, this means a lot of time has elapsed between the first drink and the last.

Sheeeeesssh I'm so anal. Shoot me!

Shoot you? I would rather snuggle. It actually got cold last night! We even had these strange little ice sticks on the deck. I have never seen anything like it.


(did you notice I changed the orange spaghetti upon your suggestion )

I will think on the baby-ing. I think in this instance, I used it because it was like the man needed the baby, to curl up and suckle, have someone clean up after him? I will give it serious consideration, and will work on the glass too Thanks!

 

[Sara Crewe]

Anna,

My suggestions all centered around ‘little words’, line breaks and removing a little information that did not feel crucial to the poem. Of course, crucial to me is not the same as crucial to you, so my apologies if I messed with something important. It felt easier to make this type of suggestion in re-write form so if my laziness irks you, you have permission to smack me. The word ‘how’ is used a lot but I left it in assuming it was intentional and connected to your theme.

Catching up with the Dead

“Baby it has been so long,
what do you want to talk about?”
You blurt, Spaghetti Sauce
skitter out the door sideways,
knuckles down.


The opening stanza leaves me with the feeling that you know exactly what you are trying to say but that I cannot hear it yet.


At first I laugh but then I understand
you want me to tell you everything.
How I still wait until morning to clean
noodles dried into brittle curls and rinse
aged circles from glasses. To explain

how the children have grown
and how they haven’t. How they no longer
let me wet the napkin to wipe their faces
and while I talk you need the clink
of dishes under water. Do you remember

the night the baby woke up, crying
for his lost balloon? The promise
of another would not soothe him
and in your silence I could feel
your tears longing to spill and lonely
bones wishing I could carry you
to bed, touch your hair and soak
your aches. He has forgotten
the balloon but it stains our memories.

I still watch for you on my sunroof,
for your ribbon cut too short.



Good luck with it.

-Sara

 

[annaswirls]

Thanks Sara! I do not mind your re-writing bits, to me it is easier to understand what a person is suggesting if they just show it. My only request (I know it is selfish to make a request of a commentor and I apologize but I just gotta sek!!!) but if next time you could please put the changes in another color so I can see right off where you made them?

 

[Sara Crewe]

Thanks Sara! I do not mind your re-writing bits, to me it is easier to understand what a person is suggesting if they just show it. My only request (I know it is selfish to make a request of a commentor and I apologize but I just gotta sek!!!) but if next time you could please put the changes in another color so I can see right off where you made them?

Crap. I had them in colour when I did it in word and lost it when I moved it here.
Next time I will make sure they stay. I didn't change a lot so don't look too hard. It's easier for me to make sure the ones I did make work if I continue through the whole poem, even if it means copying your original. I would never change anything for the sake of making a change.

 

[annaswirls]

Catching up with the Dead

“Baby it has been so long,
what do you want to talk about?”
You blurt, Spaghetti Sauce
and your shadow skitters out the door
sideways, knuckles down.

At first I laugh but now I understand,
you want me to tell you about
everything. How I still wait
until morning to clean up after,
pick the noodles dried into brittle curls
from the table cloth, rinse circles
of dried wine from the glass.

You want me to tell you how the children have grown,
how they haven’t. How they no longer
let me wet the napkin to wipe their faces.
You want to hear the sound
of dishes clinking under water
while we talk.

Do you remember the night
the baby woke up
crying for his lost balloon,
how the promise of other balloons
would not soothe him?

In your silence,
I felt your tears long to spill,
your lonely bones
wanting to be carried up to bed
to fall asleep while I touch your hair,
soak your aches.

He has forgotten about the balloon.
It is our memory now, one
that will not rinse easily.

I still watch for you sometimes
up, up out of my sunroof
your ribbon cut too short.

Catching up with the Dead

“Baby it has been so long,
what do you want to talk about?”
You blurt, Spaghetti Sauce
skitter out the door sideways,
knuckles down.


The opening stanza eaves me with the feeling that you know exactly what you are trying to say but that I cannot hear it yet.


At first I laugh but then I understand
you want me to tell you everything.
How I still wait until morning to clean
noodles dried into brittle curls and rinse
aged circles from glasses. To explain

how the children have grown
and how they haven’t. How they no longer
let me wet the napkin to wipe their faces
and while I talk you need the clink
of dishes under water. Do you remember

the night the baby woke up, crying
for his lost balloon? The promise
of another would not soothe him
and in your silence I could feel
your tears longing to spill and lonely
bones wishing I could carry you
to bed, touch your hair and soak
your aches. He has forgotten
the balloon but it stains our memories.

I still watch for you on my sunroof,
for your ribbon cut too short.



Good luck with it.

-Sara

 

[Tzara]

Red indicates words I would remove, green things I would add or change. Just suggestions, obviously.

I would agree with Sara that the first strophe is a little obscure. It's vivid, but makes me think of a child or even a chimpanzee (I think because of the "knuckles down" and doesn't seem to fit with the more sober following S's.

But I like it, so I don't think I would take it out. Don't really know what to suggest there.

Catching Up with the Dead

“Baby it has been so long,
what do you want to talk about?”
You blurt, Spaghetti sauce
and your shadow skitters out the door
sideways, knuckles down.

At first I laugh but now I understand,
you want me to tell you about
everything. How I still wait
until morning to clean up after,
pick the noodles dried into brittle curls
from the table cloth, rinse circles
of dried wine from the glasses.

You want me to tell you how the children have grown,
how they haven’t. How they no longer
let me wet the napkin to wipe their faces. <-- This is an example of how they have grown. Perhaps add another that shows how they haven't?
You want to hear the sound
of dishes clinking under water
while we talk.

Do you remember the night
the baby woke up
crying for his lost balloon,
how the promise of other balloons
would not soothe him?

In your silence,
I felt your tears long to spill,
your lonely bones
wanting to be carried up to bed
to fall asleep while I touched your hair,
soaked up your aches.

He has forgotten about the balloon.
It is our memory now, one
that will not rinse easily. <-- I liked this a lot. "Rinse" is a good verb.

I still watch for you sometimes
up, up out of my sunroof
your ribbon cut too short. <-- I think in an earlier version this reference that this brings back the baloon image was clearer. You took out the part about the baloon being lost because of the too short string?

I think this is in pretty good shape, generally. Good poem. Good luck in finding a home for it.

 

[annaswirls]

Thank you Tzara! thank you! Yes, the whole ghost skittering around like gollum across my kitchen floor was disturbing, and I am not sure how to get it across in the poem or if it is important. How important is ACCURACY in a poem? I struggle with this often. Just because it is how it really happened does not mean it is how it should be written. Right?

I don't know. I often edit any reality right out of my poem until they are stories that never happened anyway.

Thank for your generosity in your time and talents, I know I deserve neither and am grateful.


hmmm what I am thinking is that if a ghost came skittering across the kitchen floor, most likely the real reaction would not be oh hi baby what do you want to talk about! hmmm that is probably the problem. In real life there was a time delay between the haunting moment and the conversation.

 

[annaswirls]

Catching Up with the Dead

“Baby it has been so long,
what do you want to talk about?”
You blurt, Spaghetti sauce
and your shadow skitters out the door
sideways, knuckles down.

At first I laugh but now I understand,
you want me to tell you
everything. How I still wait
until morning to clean up after,
pick noodles dried in brittle curls
from the table cloth, rinse circles
of dried wine from glass.

You want me to tell you how the children have grown,
how they haven’t. How they no longer
let me wet the napkin to wipe their faces.
You want to hear the sound
of dishes clinking under water
while we talk.

Do you remember the night
the baby woke up
crying for his lost balloon,
how the promise of other balloons
would not soothe him?

In your silence,
I felt your tears long to spill,
your lonely bones
wanting to be carried up to bed
to fall asleep while I touch your hair,
soak your aches.

He has forgotten about the lost balloon.
It is our memory now, one
that will not rinse easily.

I still watch for you sometimes
up, up out of my sunroof
your ribbon cut too short.

 

[Tzara]

Thank you Tzara! thank you! Yes, the whole ghost skittering around like gollum across my kitchen floor was disturbing, and I am not sure how to get it across in the poem or if it is important. How important is ACCURACY in a poem? I struggle with this often. Just because it is how it really happened does not mean it is how it should be written. Right?

Right.

At least that was what Richard Hugo thought. He makes a comment in The Triggering Town about how facts need to give way to the truth of the poem (that's a paraphrase, obviously). He uses an example something like if you're writing about a barn and the barn is yellow but you need it to be red, make it red.

It's like Ms. Crewe's Trevi fountain poem on the Gymnasium thread, where she refers to a statue of Medusa, but then said she didn't know whether there was one in Rome. (There is at least one, but it is in the Vatican Museum, not on the streets.) Hugo would say that it doesn't matter--that the need for it to be there to satisfy the truth the poem is getting at overrides whether there really is a statue like that in the city.

 

[vampiredust]

just bumping this thread

 

[champagne1982]

<gone>

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Aw that is too bad, Champagne. I was just coming by to try to read and comment. Well, it is good to see this thread resurrected, at least. I will maybe shift one of my Edit-a-day pieces over here.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Placemats (4th Edit)

Placemats plot the courtship
of prospective daughter and mother
in law. The rounded equanimity of the table
confesses no favorites, each placed between
the other two.

Conversation is constructed from the proper
boil of tea after the fact, as it steeps, the tannin
unfurling from the silver ball
that the girl pulls around and around
in its small orbit. Looking in, the mother sees
the moon, menstruation, follows
the slim crescent of hand down to the young
woman's lap, peering through knit
to her ovaries. The mother evaluates these fruits
in practiced palms without squeezing,
careful not to bruise.

The son says nothing but cuts his ham,
the only one who dares to hold a knife.

 

[Tzara]

Aw that is too bad, Champagne. I was just coming by to try to read and comment. Well, it is good to see this thread resurrected, at least. I will maybe shift one of my Edit-a-day pieces over here.

I'll echo Dora, here. Comment, even not very intelligent comment, takes a lot of thought. So to leave something here in hope of meaningful comment, at least in my universe means, well, substantial time.

So, Champie, if you pulled it because you changed your mind, all's OK. Your perogative. But I hope you didn't pull it because of lack of response. "Not for the thin-skinned" also implies "not for snap decision."

So I will promise to say something, even if it isn't very helpful, to you or anyone who places something here.



Y'know, regret is setting in already. I mean, anybody? Well, you know, I said. And will. But go back and look at the first post first, 'K?

Just sayin', people.

 

[Sara Crewe]

Hi Gina,

I broke the poem into sections to make my comments easier to understand. You have lots of great ideas here and you definitely portray a strong sense of emotion in the piece.

Here are some of my ideas section by section:

I was sure that I might have you
for so much longer
you broke my heart
as you got weaker
how dare you do
what the doctors expected
damn it...

What if you told us what having him longer might have looked like? Choose something special maybe that defined your time together to draw the reader deeper into the relationship. When the line is more personal it is almost always a better line because you have to define it for yourself before you share it. You are much less likely then to use a phrase that someone else has already written because nobody has seen exactly what you have seen.

The same idea with “you broke my heart”. That is a phrase that can apply to millions of people. Tell us what it means to you specifically and you almost assuredly have a better line. As a reader, “broke my heart” seems like filler and my eyes will skip it, but if you tell me really and truly how you felt, I would never skip a word.

What did weaker look like? The reader wants you to paint the picture so that we can see what you are trying to share with us. We always want to hear your words which usually take time to come out and you have to really focus on what you want to say.

This is definitely really opinion here but I think the piece might also be stronger if you really focused on one main feeling that you want to project. You have two HUGE ones in the first section, mourning the lost time together and a sense of abandonment.


how dare you consider
not being strong enough
to beat the odds
you were suppose to live
you were larger than life
not the other way around
damn it.

The same issues repeat in this section. There is a very strong sense of emotion but the pictures or imagery just aren’t there so as a reader I don’t feel drawn in to the middle of the poem…I am just watching from a distance which is fine sometimes but you are a writing an emotional poem so I think you want us closer.

You have also brought in a third emotion now, anger. Anger because the person perhaps gave up their will to fight. All three emotional issues raised by the poem are really quite intense and I can see why you wanted them all in there because they are so important. However, sometimes if the poem starts to contain too much then the effect is that everything is somewhat watered down and not as intense as it should be. The reader feels overwhelmed so instead of feeling what you want them to, they feel nothing at all. If you focus on one or maybe two then you can paint the picture with more clarity and then reader doesn’t feel bounced around as much.

I would always avoid expressions like “larger than life” and replace them with your own ideas about what that means or what that looked like to you.


i am selfish now
wishing you had endured
wishing you got better
just to touch you
damn it!

In this section you have returned to mourning your loss which is a big leap from the anger in the last one. I think this section also stays too much on the surface. It doesn’t share enough to engage me…what would you have done if he had lived? What would it have meant to you?


could you not
have taken me with you?

I like your ending and I think it captures a common feeling in a very direct concise manner. It would need a capital with your current punctuation. I think “could you not” is a bit awkward and could easily be replaced with a clearer statement like:

Sometimes I wish I had gone with you.




I know the process of losing someone is difficult and filled with lots of emotional changes and I can see why you wanted to portray that, but I think in a short poem you are best served to focus your efforts.

Maybe you could elaborate each section that tries to capture one particular aspect of the grieving process and make it into its own poem and then you could have a sequence of short poems that together capture the whole experience?

If you do leave all the different changing emotions in the poem you will have to figure out a way to get them to flow better together so the effect isn’t as jarring or overwhelming.

I am not a big fan of repetition so although I understood why you punctuated with the “damn it’s” they didn’t really work for me. If they were meant to portray anger and frustration I think that would come out on its own if you fleshed out why you feeling the things you were in each section. Describe what the loss looks like to you and then we will know how it feels without you telling us.

Please don’t feel that my comments are in any way a comment on what the poem talks about or your experiences, Gina. My comments are just about the words. If you want me to clarify anything you can ask me here or in pm.

Best of luck with it.

What a bitch that Cat chick was...


I'll be back with comments Pandora--might be tomorrow though.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Was that you, Sara? (Assuming you are joking because the post didn't seem at ALL bitchy to me.) I definitely look forward to it, whenever. And I promise to return the favor.

 

[Sara Crewe]

Was that you, Sara? (Assuming you are joking because the post didn't seem at ALL bitchy to me.) I definitely look forward to it, whenever. And I promise to return the favor.

Yeah. That's me in a previous incarnation.

I'm getting comments together right now.

 

[Sara Crewe]

Placemats (4th Edit)
________________________________________
Placemats plot the courtship
of prospective daughter and mother
in law. The rounded equanimity of the table
confesses no favorites, each placed between
the other two.

Conversation is constructed from the proper
boil of tea after the fact, as it steeps, the tannin
unfurling from the silver ball
that the girl pulls around and around
in its small orbit. Looking in, the mother sees
the moon, menstruation, follows
the slim crescent of hand down to the young
woman's lap, peering through knit
to her ovaries. The mother evaluates these fruits
in practiced palms without squeezing,
careful not to bruise.

The son says nothing but cuts his ham,
the only one who dares to hold a knife.

Great moment you captured. Good sense of tension and character without any spoken words. I don't have a lot of things I would change but here are some ideas to think about:

All comments are my opinions and stem from my personal reader-reaction to your writing. Whether or not you change anything based on my comments is totally up to you.

1. I like your line breaks all the way through. They all work for me. I might have played with breaking on Looking and do you need the ‘in’ there? I think we follow where she is looking.

2. Do you mean placemats or place cards? I wasn’t sure how placemats would dictate where the people would sit. That confusion in the first line was a problem for me. If you did mean placemats that word alone was not enough to make me understand how the set up of the table was reflecting the tension between the two women. Place cards would have told me that someone told them to sit where they were seated.

3. “Follows the slim crescent of hand” was not an image that worked well for me. It didn’t pop into my head upon reading it. I paused a long time trying to see what you meant.

4. What about if the mother was peering through knit to see the beginnings of her grandchildren’s faces or something to that effect? Creepy, but so is this MIL.

5. I know what you mean ‘by in practiced palms’ but ‘with practiced palms works better for me, personally.

6. If she is not squeezing then there would be no risk of bruising so the second is kind of redundant. I wish some how you could play that moment up more. It's the kicker right? The subtle invasion of privacy for the DIL.

What about in practice palms, pressing
but careful not to bruise.

7. I love your ending but I am not sold on the word order. I wish it was smoother. I think there are too many pronouns

Ideas: The son says nothing, cuts his ham.
The only one with a knife.
or

The son says nothing,
and cuts his ham.
The only one willing to hold a knife.

or

The son is silent. He cuts
his ham, the only willing
to hold a knife.


Anyway, just some ideas. Like I said, I liked it and it was well-written but when somebody puts things on a thread like this it means they want people to pick at it. So I picked.

 

[champagne1982]

I'll echo Dora, here. Comment, even not very intelligent comment, takes a lot of thought. So to leave something here in hope of meaningful comment, at least in my universe means, well, substantial time.

So, Champie, if you pulled it because you changed your mind, all's OK. Your perogative. But I hope you didn't pull it because of lack of response. "Not for the thin-skinned" also implies "not for snap decision."

So I will promise to say something, even if it isn't very helpful, to you or anyone who places something here.



Y'know, regret is setting in already. I mean, anybody? Well, you know, I said. And will. But go back and look at the first post first, 'K?

Just sayin', people.

oh lawd no mr t-zed.. I looked at it and figured it needed some brewing time since the adjectivousness of the thing was a tad overdone ... I'll find something for you all to mull over, soon. Maybe, I'll crit a couple that are here waiting .

g'night dahlings.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Sara thank you very, very much for your detailed response. It is wonderful to hear your perspective on this. I appreciate the time and effort you put in on it and will take everything you have said into consideration during the fifth (and I hope last) edit. You have given me lots to think about.

x 12

 

[champagne1982]

Postcard From Perfect

There's this place I want you to visit
a city or a town, no matter, you decide
but the only thing is,
it's a place where madness
means you're well

on the road to lunacy and riding
on the moon can't be a bad thing.

Remember that park with the swing
that always had a puddle where your feet
wanted to land and the big boys
would come around and tease you
because you didn't want to fly so high?

Well, here, there's a playground
where the only puddle is the one
where even the big boys have fun
and you can make them eat mud pies.

That theatre with the sticky floor
and the seats that always ate
your mittens has been renovated.

Oh, clean water is free.

Librarians, in this perfect place
don't suppress your need to laugh
out loud or even cry in sobbing
blubber snorts, when reading.

All the authors and poets here are perfect,
you can't keep yourself off the emote train.
So, all aboard and don't forget to write.

Here in Perfect, it rains when you want it to.
A perfect rain for splashing in
that makes rainbows out of black
clouds and doesn't wreck your painting;

artwork you proudly carry home
to show your mom who'll hang
it on the fridge with magnets
shaped like all the places
you've ever been,
when you ride on the moon.

 

[Tzara]

Placemats plot the courtship
of prospective daughter and mother
in law. The rounded equanimity of the table
confesses no favorites, each placed between
the other two.

Conversation is constructed from the proper
boil of tea after the fact, as it steeps, the tannin
unfurling from the silver ball
that the girl pulls around and around
in its small orbit. Looking in, the mother sees
the moon, menstruation, follows
the slim crescent of hand down to the young
woman's lap, peering through knit
to her ovaries. The mother evaluates these fruits
in practiced palms without squeezing,
careful not to bruise.

The son says nothing but cuts his ham,
the only one who dares to hold a knife.

Okey dokey. The following is only my opinion, OK? And I'm not the brightest bulb in the display.

Placemats plot the courtship I think I kind of know what you're reaching for here, but it doesn't work for me. I'm OK with placemats--I assume from the poem that this is a dinner with the prospective parents or some similar thing, so we are talking about placemats, not placecards, but I (a) don't like the language much (I keep reading it as "Placemats plop") and (b) find the general metaphor wanting. The placemats are presumably all round the circular table, so what does that mean? The prospective D and MIL circle around each other? Maybe. My impression, though, is more that you mean to oppose them. So perhaps some kind of phrase that emphasizes that might work better for me.

Note: For me. I want to re-emphasize I am core-dumping on my feelings reading this.

The rounded equanimity of the table
confesses no favorites, each placed between
the other two.

I would change "rounded" to "round". Basically, I like this.

Conversation is constructed from the proper
boil of tea after the fact, as it steeps, the tannin
unfurling from the silver ball
that the girl pulls around and around
in its small orbit.

I would break at "boil" which is not only (to me) a more natural voice break, but emphasizes the underlying tension. I understand the break at "proper", though.

"Unfurling" is descriptive of how tea blends into water, but I'm not sure that you establish this. (I am quibbling here, but what this thread is about.)

Looking in, the mother sees
the moon, menstruation, follows
the slim crescent of hand down to the young
woman's lap, peering through knit
to her ovaries. The mother evaluates these fruits
in practiced palms without squeezing,
careful not to bruise.

I love this, basically. Some small quibbles: I'd break line 3 at "to" which give you

the slim crescent of hand down to
the young woman's lap, peering through knit​

This seems to me (to me) to give better breaks: sees, follows, to, knit, fruits, squeezing, bruise.

I have no problem with "the slim crescent of hand" and, in fact, I like the moon/menstruation connection. I might say that "these fruits" is too impersonal.

The son says nothing but cuts his ham,
the only one who dares to hold a knife.

I actually love this line pretty much as is. I would perhaps change it to:

The son says nothing, cuts his ham,
the only one dares hold a knife.​

or something like that.

Good poem. Good subject, or rather, good conceptualized poem, which is actually quite difficult to come by.

The opinions expressed here are only those of the author, who is a well-known idiot, & c.

 

[Tzara]

Postcard From Perfect

This thread is kind of exhausting and I will get to you, Missy.

Just saying.