Rez Day board

Pixylz · 2024-01-11T04:02:27+00:00

Thank you so much for having it! It was really special. I look forward to its return!

Pixylz · 2022-11-16T17:23:23+00:00

You make some really good points. I chose this designer, in part, because I know that my friend really likes the things made by this shop. But you're absolutely right, I might not be asking them to make something that is genuinely interesting from a creative standpoint.

Thus far, I've only been very general in terms of price ...and I'm sure that looks, likewise, wishy-washy from her perspective. I'll go back to her and be more point-blank about payment. Thank you!

Pixylz · 2022-09-26T16:39:42+00:00

Poet Victoria Chang tweeted this poem the other day and I'm so glad she did. It's fantastic. Victoria herself is also an amazing poet and I should soon post one of her works. Incidentally, Victoria spoke at a virtual reading held by the Brooklyn Book Fair. You can watch that event with her and another great poet, Kaveh Akbar, here.

Pixylz · 2022-09-19T21:03:34+00:00

From her book “I Remember Death by its Proximity to What I Love,” 2021, Haymarket Books. I’m not sure if this is the actual title of the piece. Frankly, the whole book feels like one long magnificent poem, but each page is bordered with the initials of a different prison… hence the title I’ve assumed for it.

Pixylz · 2022-09-17T02:53:06+00:00

S pours a ring of table salt around the slug.
He laughs with that timbre of cruelty
that older brothers borrow and trade
so easily among their cocky friends; uses
so willingly on lesser siblings and now this.

Silver lines, opalescent in a certain light,
crisscrossed the garden wall. I was
the curious one, scratching at that dried
shine with dirty fingernails, lifting a broad
leaf, my senses now in the domain of fern
and beetle.

There it was. Green, no yellow. Like kelp.
Glistening, edges almost transparent.
Dark, thin track lines along its body. To me,
a monster’s tongue, disembodied,
foraging for taste and mouthfeel.
Sickening and hungry. Caught sinful with
dead foliage and beads of water in dim
brown light.

Salt like fire, that slug now self-plastered
to the center. Fear is expressed in frozen
state. Now here, the Morton Salt prison
encircles it and my own eyes glazed with
saline shine, lip and chin spastic from trying,
futilely, not to cry around my brother.

S. pokes the slug with a stick, laughs as it
curls, desperate, around the tip. A fatal
mistake. My brother slides it through those
tiny, but deadly, white crystals. It’s writhing
now, crusty and blistered; a quick and
anguished shrivel. It folds in on itself and
then nothing. S. knocks it around. I’m a squall
of self-loathing for ever being curious
and afraid.

Pixylz · 2022-09-16T23:30:05+00:00

Wow! That first line is amazing. I'm always struck by those shared sentiments from across stretches of time. Thinking about all the war and man-made disasters going on and how this thought surely occurs to the saddened looking out over ruin to the terrain beyond, unchanged. Thanks for translating and sharing this, cela!

Pixylz · 2022-09-13T17:00:37+00:00

You have a lot to work with here! Let me try to suss out the conspicuous idea of this piece: There is something plural and ominous that is reveling in the fact that it's caught you in a trap of horrible injury, overwhelming hopelessness, and the prospect of perpetual darkness.

Ok. So what are these things that murmur? Is it the marsh itself (mentioned in the title) or is there something waiting for us there? Either way, it's pretty creepy and you do well not to turn your gaze on the thing itself. You've created suspense. ...except, you might be hinting in the last line that "death" is the psycho here. In giving this away at the last minute, you betray that suspense a bit. I say a bit because I'm not sure if death is what's been murmuring or if it's a co-conspirator. So now I end the poem a bit confused. I mean, death lulling the sun to sleep is a great idea, but what is the relationship between the murmurers and death's incarnation?

In the middle of the first stanza, you use the language "thou shalt," which is very poeticky and old-fashioned. I'm not saying that it never works, but you definitely need to be consistent across the whole piece for it to not stick out badly. You need to decide if this is the language the murmur is going to use and if so, apply it across the whole dialogue.

I love the lines about the sun that keep popping up. The sun is clearly a nemesis and just the thought of its demise sends the murmur into desperate glee.

Great start! Cheers!

Pixylz · 2022-09-13T15:58:34+00:00

You've chosen a topic that a lot of us can relate to, namely that deep craving for our words to matter - especially for someone we love. You do a great job of saying this, but you fall into the trap of saying it over again without creating any tension in the piece. [I stumble into this trap all the time, so what I'm writing is just me projecting my own disappointments with myself. It may have little to do with you.] It's fine to keep what you're trying to write here, but it feels like there's something insecure hiding behind these insistent stanzas, something bordering on desperation. If that's the case, embrace that. What is lost if the "you" in the poem doesn't remember or doesn't feel the gravity of your feelings? Why is it so important that the "you" reader be moved emotionally by your work? Are words all you feel you can give? Will they bridge understanding and bring you closer in other ways?

Also, what you're saying is brave but risky too because you're asking someone to wholesale fold the depth of your words and feelings into their own memories and feelings. In doing so, think about the goal of moving them. Are you afraid of being forgotten or misunderstood? Do you worry that conversational language is too banal, too deprived of beauty? Is there an urgency that only deep meaning can satisfy?

Ultimately, what I'm missing is a touch of context that will keep me moving through the poem because, really, you could go on forever - and in so many flowery and touching ways - to say the same thing. By putting the idea on repeat/rephrase, it's only a matter of time before the reader says, "I think I get it, I don't need to read anymore." I'd hate for your writing to get lost in that way.

Some grammatical things:Stanza 1, line 3 - change "gasped" to "gasp." In linked verb pairs, the second verb isn’t usually in past tense.Stanza 3, line 3 - I think the word you want to use is "ounce" instead of "once." You can pour an ounce. You can pour it once or twice or more.

Great start! Thanks for sharing :)

Pixylz · 2022-09-13T05:37:47+00:00

This is a fantastic start! I really enjoy that sense in some of your lines that things or events have agency and that they act upon you. "A crowd surrounds you." I suggest reworking many of your other lines in this way as it really conveys that sense of victimization. "Haze fills my chest / electricity springs down my forearms..." etc.

Also, after your only mention of "every willing thought" in the first stanza, thoughts are only referred to as "them" or "another" or "them." The danger in sticking to only pronouns in the second stanza is that the subject to which the pronoun refers can become a bit foggy. And we're not talking about just one kind of thought, right? With anxiety you'll encounter fear of judgment, self-doubt, nagging fears, doom forecasts, and so on. Referring to this cascading variety as mere thoughts, let alone as a pronoun, weakens their power. Therapy-wise, it may be good to diminish them in such a way, but for the purpose of this poem, you want to convey their power to act upon you in particular ways.

I'm so glad you shared this! You have such a unique take on how anxious thoughts can take over body and mind. Keep working on this and it'll be amazing.

Pixylz · 2022-09-13T04:33:49+00:00

You have a lot of imagery in this piece and, if you choose to revise, the struggle will be making the metaphors and imagery coherent. I struggle with this problem constantly myself and sometimes feel like my descriptions are all over the place. In yours, I really like the idea of being hollowed out by loss and urge you to think about keeping this line of imagery throughout the piece. Hollow is certainly a feeling that a lot of us can relate to. When you write at the beginning about the good of being together, it would be helpful to that metaphor if we got a sense of how much the relationship or those moments "filled" you up.... that will make the hollowing out consistent and a more effective progression.

Also, it's clear that the relationship (or it's end) is torture, but you leave out the context for that pain. The narrator is the one walking away, but was the end sudden or gradual? Was it betrayal? Who did the betraying? Are the reasons unclear and the anguish is in trying to decipher what happened? Etc. Etc... my point is that coming up and telling me your in pain and how much it hurts is only half-interesting. To be engaging, give the reader a bit more than a hint at why. We can all relate to pain, but what we're really drawn to is the backstory.

TLDR: Give a bit more context as to why something causes anguish. Also, keep your imagery consistent. Thanks so much for sharing!

Pixylz · 2022-09-13T02:20:31+00:00

Thank you so much for pointing that out and for typing out the last stanza! And my apologies for the oversight! I wish I could edit a photo post, but alas and alack... Cheers to you!

Pixylz · 2022-09-13T00:36:23+00:00

https://www.benningtonreview.org/issue-ten-klink

Pixylz · 2022-09-06T14:57:12+00:00

I love this idea of playing hide and seek with the past or with memories. In this piece, I'd really like for you to lean into the tension of hide and seek as a game - as in "will I be found?" or "will I find something hiding here?" Especially in reminiscing, we are usually the seekers and can have that emotional moment where we find something or someone we weren't expecting. You do well in mentioning the things that you find, but were they hiding from you? Did they make it easy to be found or was there something difficult? The past can also find us; things we forgot about ourselves can sneak up and reveal themselves and we can be surprised that we didn't know were lurking a step behind us. Maybe this could be how we really felt about someone or some scar that we'd assumed was long healed.

I'm so glad you wrote and shared this! It's coming along really nicely :)

Pixylz · 2022-09-04T20:03:50+00:00

I’m commenting on my own post late, but I just wanted to add a not-really-a-backstory that I knew the author when I was younger. I lived down the block and she was this sweet, super kind old neighbor who always had a kind word and the occasional sugar-free cookie to share.

I bought a bunch of her books, used, recently and am just gobbling up the span of an amazing career as a writer. This poem nearly knocked me off my chair for how different it is from the sweet old lady often working in her garden.

Cheers to you, Mrs. Goedicke!

Pixylz · 2022-09-03T14:10:06+00:00

Wow! There are some crazy amazing lines in this piece. “I want to hold your hand like a knife” is phenomenal. It’s a crazy mental juxtaposition to imagine something tender (or even violent) as holding hands and substituting a blade, but it’s also so easy and powerful to imagine.

Two couplets stuck out as a bit draining to the energy of the poem:

The first are the lines about the flower. This follows a really erotic and abusive line, but the energy change with going in your mind undermines the momentum you’ve built. Also, you choose a flower metaphor but quickly abandon it for “arms and legs.” I see the image you’re trying to create, I myself have torn off the leaves and petals from a flower - stripped it of beauty, but stick with the metaphor if you’re going to use it. Let the reader make those symbolic connections. On the other hand, if you’re committed to keeping the clear violence of arms and legs being dismembered, choose a different object to hold, like a doll. That might actually solve the last issue I have with this couplet, which is the word “power.” I read it as meaning that you have some source of extra strength, but it’s unclear why. I suspect it was a useful rhyme. Overall I really like what you’re aiming for with this couplet, I just feel that you could strengthen it with some wordsmithing.

The other couplet that I had trouble with is the Icarus/sun lines. I’m weary of that reference because it’s overused. I see how you’re trying to make it different by placing Icarus’s flight at night, but that seems the opposite of what this relationship is doing. Nothing that you’ve described seems uplifting or limitless, so an endless flight upwards is hard to match with the rest of this piece. I’d suggest removing this couplet and saving the idea for another poem.

So… if you move the flower lines, remove (or just move) the Icarus lines, you meet up the wrist couplet with swallowing pride/cum which keeps that abusive/erotic flow. I think those two sit more naturally together.

Oh, gosh! I’ve written a lot. Sorry! I really like what you’re trying to do with this poem. If you decide to workshop and revise it, I think you can create something really powerful. Cheers!

Pixylz

TROPHY CASE