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Prima materia Inferior, Don’t forget, I am the model. Every fork I place In the mouth of your direction Eats your innocence Eats your tiny footsteps whole, and Stolen, My face wears your smile, Yours, mine. Fine, But give up hunting the Name, My little Genius, For the djinn In you, Buried alive at birth. Earth Can never let you forget You are the model, You naughty elastic clay, Of the law I always Should have been- Prometheus of Trying To Be- And am. Wham. Take this gist In a circle To your thera- pist. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Regis L Chapman On Date: 2004-06-04 13:39:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.73333
I really like this work, and have put it in my voting list. I like the perspective given on parenthood. It's all the emotions that you would expect from parenthood- all the anxiety and hopefulness about the child and their capabilities.
The title is a bit of an abstraction for me. As I read more through it, I realized that the whole thing really is also. As such, it's excellently done. I imagine it's hard to gain this sort of distance enough to say these things. I wonder about the first word of this poem though. Inferior. If you put onto the kid, that doesn't make sense except from a military perspective, and even that's appropriate in some ways for parenting. If you put it onto the parent, then I can make more sense of the ending, and therefore I see the brilliance of this work supported on both ends.
There are so many unique turns of phrase here, I am just speechless about it. Truly wonderful stuff. I like it better than I can say in a critique.
Thanks,
REEG!