poetry critical

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violence looks lanky but feels slow in topeka, kansas

when the situation called for a babysitter,
my grandpa gave his kids a pack of cigarettes
and told them to head down to the basement.
my mom got a shot of scotch
for cramps. after years of "recovering"
and years more to go,
when i get high in ways my body can't
afford, she says it's nice to have me
back. i quit praying at the dinner table;
she stopped letting me eat.
on the way to her dad's funeral
in april at the mci airport, she heard him
call her name and tell her everything
would be alright. she asked
if she was crazy; i asked
if she wanted me to write her
into bible stories.
they went to st. cecilia's,
her and my sister, for a little while
after that.

12 Jun 07

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the internet stopped working while i was visiting 'moon in aries'. i read all the comments there. decided some things about the people who liked it. i saw this title in the newest. i stared at it for a good 15 minutes. i clicked on it as soon as my internet was back on.

i wasn't disappointed. this is wickedly good. thank you.
 — OKcomputer

this is a repost, is it not? i read it long ago.

very nice poem.
 — varun

i love this. i'm not even really sure why (not that there's something that makes it bad, there's just not a particular reason i love it.) it's just... idon'tknow.

 — overdose