Black Clouds

[Montreal]

i hate to move from the nest i’ve built myself here, but i feel a storm coming and i gather my sticks. i wear white skin and a red face and shaking hands, you wear a mask that i can’t see into and rubber gloves. we wave from our seperate sides, and i watch that linnet bird land on your shoulder with a croon and half-assed smile. i drop my hand and let it hang, close my eyes and cocoon into myself. away from you, away from everything. a bomb shelter in a mine field. i wonder if you take off your gloves to stroke her. my mother tells me to guard my heart, but i wonder if it is out of fear or out of strength. am i swimming or am i sinking? ’and your bird can sing...’ i’ve lost my voice from singing to you, for you, about you. little linnet sings sweetly but you can’t see her fangs. now i’m smoking out of windows, ashamed of myself and destroying myself. cancer sings to me like the bird sings to you, and the outcome will be about the same either way.

[frank]

This is very disturbing.
Mostly because you open windows that are covered with gauze, so we can just barely beyond them, but not quite.
Fleeting impressions and symbols that over-all project a deep sadness or overwhelming sense of futility.
The opening, development as an experimental work, and the ending are all good.
The imagery supports the emotional impact, and the texture is almost tangible, even though the woven threads are interrupted. There really isn't too much here to pick at. The form and style and so on are all as you wanted them to be. The care that you took to make it so is recognized.
As an experimental work, it is quite good.
If it is a reflection of things actually happening, I'm terribly saddened.

All of which make it a good work. ^_^