Sunday, December 4, 2016

Jen Webb #2

We can't decide if the evening light is purple or is blue. We can't agree on the right way to walk or to stand. Quarrels spread between us, and insults, but we are battle-ready, you and I. Metaphor, irony, anaphora: we use them all. I'm the faster, but no one can touch you for grace. We weigh the odds, extend our hands. 


  1. I like this piece a lot, Jen. There’s an awful lot of meta-poetic power and tension in the binaries you set up between the first and second person. Just wondering though if it might not benefit from a bit of space and a more standard poetic presentation, maybe with shorter line breaks and a bit of enjambment to create flow and rhythm. Written as a prose poem it feels like the reading moves too fast to give the words the right amount of pause between them.


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