tdleroy's profile
AGE:
31
LOC: Brooklyn, NY
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: October 17
LOC: Brooklyn, NY
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: October 17
I am a poet from Pittsburgh, PA. I attended Carneige Mellon University for Creative Writing. I do shows with musicians on a regular basis, and have been writing for ten years. I currently have five shows lined up in the next three months, and am coming out with audio formats for a recent live show to be accessed online. I have two working manuscripts, and am readying a third to be mailed out to the million dynamic publishers of the earth.
I love you.
Terence Degnan
visit my myspace:
http://myspace.com/tdleroy
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in this part of america no song plays on the fm radio just debris of bad country skipping the center lane line with conservative talk radio from one county over an old jailhouse cast iron typewriter hocked at a yard sale a black and silver Remington- with the ghost of double sentences stuck in the register -types away in the trunk on the night you lost the ring i bought you a palmful of disappearing blue stars the night you lost the ring i bought you the dullest blue stars in paradise ‘night ...
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make a bomb that could destroy two cities and name it after me I remember back when they found me floating down the Mon river in a bassoon they raised me with mandrills and taught me to read I spoke only with my hands and when I became savvy to their misdeeds I fell in love with the darkest of all scientists and she showed me the flaw in my fingertips meaning there was only one me and my hand proved it perfectly I began to read Leroi jones and sylvia plath I read the newspaper for all of its ...
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tom sawyer's fence i remember back when the poems evaded me like prairie dogs down in their holes now they come with ease and viciousness one of us wasn’t ready for the other and now i am almost tired of them they seem foreign and angry to me and i feel like home for the first time but the wolves come up to my small apartment and they want to hear the newest installment they knew me back when i couldn’t regurgitate a syllable they could see what was coming it made it worse i felt like a man w...
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jesus’ kidney stone never mind the fact that the english language is a ninja a fucking ninja never mind the fact that we are being given back our bodies wastefully never mind the fact that yesterday was the end and today is the day after rapture and everything is disastrously normal never mind the fact that the ocean is a contract killer with waves like chinese stars never mind the fact that cereal boxes are reaching down into your children for taiwanese junk prizes never mind the fact that y...
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dejasvuze'z if you can remember hard enough you can recall how to scream mercy in indian, japanese science and math math and science daredevil and catwoman superman and wonder woman raven and darkwing duck don’t take a shit don’t order from the super value menu don’t rent porn gon’t go to temple they don’t pray to the dogs of science and math the receiver the av chord the amplifier the frequency the ear drum the pattern of language canonized by linguists knows you are going to react and count...
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I would change three words Teenage Anxiety and Entrails But I like the idea that this poem gives an image of something lurking, but still has a feminine quality to it (which I'm not sure you wanted). It in this juxtaposition that I think the poem works. But like any review I onlly half-way know what I am talking about.
Are you stabbing outward as an angry black poet? Maybe not. There are a million angry black poets out ther saying nothing, though. I'm not sure what "the fight" is in this story, nor if the author is within "the fight" writing about their experience. What is the disease, American complacency? What do you hate? Why do you hate? It seems by the amount of words here that a. the fight is not well thought out, b. the enemy is unknown. c. the writer understands that something is wrong, but d. whate...
Why? The idea here could be brilliant. 1st off, Christmas in Iraq brings a whole religious aspect to the poem which you never touch. 2nd you give no flesh to the "men" you talk about in this poem, so they are robots with guns, shooting other robots with guns. What makes a bomb merry? I'm not offended, I want you to actually write this poem. I want to know what a soldier thinks about celebrating the birth of jesus in a desert NW of Bethleham, or however you spell the birthplace. What do they e...
"But the world is calling", that needs to go. Shit this is great. I wanted more. I'm not blowing sunshine, this is solid prose Gabe. I really need you to suck it up and keep writing. Its not long enough to be a short story, and to just have a small window only gives me the hint that it may be hard to figure out what happens next. See all of the fast hard sexy literature is right there, but the slow stuff, the understanding of what is happening, it needs flesh. You have a very descriptive way ...
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