Can't stop a review train from roaring down the tracks. Time to get some more reviews under my belt, and into your mind. I have things to say about stuff and you'll listen to me by God, or my name is Extremely Pete.
Windex
by: Diamond the Forde
And that was when I realized
that I really fucked up this time.
when the windex bottle beat
a blue stain into the Berber carpet
and I was left standing wide-mouthed
in an open-mouthed doorway.
That long hall never seemed so short.
That fuming man never seemed so tall
and that was when I realized that what I did
I never really remembered anyway.
How quickly did my mistakes,
or lack thereof,
transcend through the contents
of that plastic cleaning bottle?
When did it explode
onto the scene and leave a trail
of Oh-My-Gods or
You-Fucking-Bitch's that I was quite prepared for?
Did I ever really know how to duck
the verbal abrasions like I learned
how to dodge that bottle?
Or did the bottle dodge me?
Maybe if it had hit me
I would have become clean
and without streaks I could have glistened
into a transparent pane
on a rectangular plane.
Why couldn't I disappear?
Why couldn't the words hit me
and bounce off like birds?
They left smears, greasy trails
of You-Dirty-Little-Whores
and Get-The-Hell-Outta-My-Sight's.
and as I slammed my door shut
to FD&C Blue No. 1
daddy's little girl turned blue too
and with my eyes closed
I couldn't see the glass fragments
of my insides shatter anymore.
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What I liked: I don't think anyone's writing in this entire class has grown on me like yours has. This poem is fantastic in a lot of different ways. I'll start with "wide-mouthed in an open-mouthed doorway." I love that phrase and I love a lot of the little things too. "greasy trails/ of you-dirty-little-whores" ect. All those moments are wonderful. I like that you took our advice and wrote a poem about windex throwing. And I like how it turned out.
Improvements: "that fuming man" is a little problematic for me in the same way that Somaria's class critique poem bothered me when she talked about the woman and the man of the house boy. Something about the phrasing bothers me, and while that sounds vague the phrase "That fuming man" is also vague. At first, it seems like you dropped the bottle and only later is it clear that the bottle was thrown at you, so I would clarfiy that. I don't know what the glass fragments inside you are, but I feel like it could have been a cool dynamic had you been more clear on what they are.
All Together: I think this is a really strong piece. I would fix some of the vague places, touch up the end of the poem where it talks about the glass inside you, and make the beginning a bit more clear. After that, I don't see much wrong. Keep pumping out work like this, and you'll be a contender for the strongest writer in the class, easily.
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