• Re: Sunglass / Will Dockery (1997)

    From Will Dockery@user3274@newsgrouper.org.invalid to alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sat Jan 3 10:58:05 2026
    From Newsgroup: alt.arts.poetry.comments


    Serpent <serpent@hotmale.com> posted:
    Will Dockery wrote:

    Sunglass.

    This battered old shell looks like a death mask.

    Lucky or not I shall wear it as I walk into Phenix City. Though I
    cheated in my gambling I wound up broke anyway.

    And I come, and I pay the zombie w*ores and walking dead. While the
    dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.


    Clay the gay?

    Homophobic much, Serpent?
    --
    Poetry and songs of Will Dockery:
    https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
    --- Synchronet 3.21a-Linux NewsLink 1.2
  • From Will Dockery@user3274@newsgrouper.org.invalid to alt.arts.poetry.comments on Mon Jan 5 05:33:03 2026
    From Newsgroup: alt.arts.poetry.comments


    mpsilvertone@yahoo-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (HarryLime) posted:
    Will Dockery wrote:

    Sunglass.

    "Sunglasses." Since you say "a pair of sunglasses," the noun is always plural.

    "This battered old shell looks like a death mask.

    A "shell" would be your complete body, but a "death mask" would only have been taken from your face.

    You cannot refer to your face as a shell, since your face only covers a small portion of your body.

    "Battered old" is pretty much redundant -- not to mention unimaginative.

    Try something a little less stale: "time worn," "battle scarred," "weather beaten," or you could skipped the cliches altogether and go for something more original like "I looked at Phenix City through a death mask."

    "Lucky or not I shall wear it as I walk into Phenix City. Though I
    cheated in my gambling I wound up broke anyway."

    "Lucky or not" implies that you have already labeled your face as one "lucky" or "unlucky." You haven't. So "lucky or not" is incorrect.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke."

    This "poem" reads more like prose than poetry, but if you keep the prose fresh, it might work as a JD Senetto style slice of life.

    "And I come, and I pay the zombie w*ores and walking dead. While the
    dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head."

    And you blew it.

    Literally. Shot your load in your already crusty blue jeans. Why would you need the services of zombie whores if you already came?

    And there you go again, using pronouns without first introducing the noun.

    If the head belonged to Clay the Gay, you would need to name Clay the Gay *before* referring to him with a pronoun ("his").

    "Zombie whores" could be more original, but who are the "walking dead" that you're paying? If you're calling the whores both "zombies" and "walking dead," you're being redundant.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie whore, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head."

    "One more trip over that bridge to the kissing booth. Where there's
    smoke there may be fire and this time I got burned."

    Cliched homilies have no place in poetry.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie whore, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head.

    One last trip over the bridge to the kissing booth; but I got burned."

    Cut the dharma bum shit. That's Kerouac, not Donkey. Quit stealing other people's lines, put-downs, and comebacks.

    "I walk this beach at midnight like a zen dharma beach bum. And I am
    saved, and I turn."

    "I watch the drunken poets, and my lawyer. While the dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head."

    I don't believe that some bum gambling and whoring at Phenix City has a lawyer. A parole officer, maybe... but not a lawyer.

    Is the lawyer the clay headed one who loses his halo? I don't think so, but that's what your poem is saying.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie whore, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head.

    One last trip over the bridge to the kissing booth; but I got burned.

    I walk along the midnight beach; watch drunken poets dancing on the sand.

    The dark lady in the sunglasses takes the halo from my clay head."

    -Will Dockery (1997)

    ***
    Original text restored, troll content removed.

    This is better, but still needs work.

    The transition from the gambling to the whoring moves too quickly, and more time could be spent on establishing the atmosphere (for readers who've never been to Phenix City): neon lights, smoky rooms, etc.

    Also the dark lady is coming out of nowhere. Who (or what) is she?

    And how does the speaker, who frequents the dens of ill repute in Phenix City have a halo for her to take?

    You need to better define your ideas and work them through before trying to set them down on paper.


    This is a response to the post seen at: http://www.jlaforums.com/viewtopic.php?p=699930600#699930600

    Thanks for reading and commenting, your suggestions are all good ones.
    --
    Poetry and songs of Will Dockery:
    https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
    --- Synchronet 3.21a-Linux NewsLink 1.2
  • From Will Dockery@user3274@newsgrouper.org.invalid to alt.arts.poetry.comments on Mon Jan 5 13:02:27 2026
    From Newsgroup: alt.arts.poetry.comments


    mpsilvertone@yahoo-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (HarryLime) posted:
    Will Dockery wrote:

    Sunglass.

    "Sunglasses." Since you say "a pair of sunglasses," the noun is always plural.

    "This battered old shell looks like a death mask.

    A "shell" would be your complete body, but a "death mask" would only have been taken from your face.

    You cannot refer to your face as a shell, since your face only covers a small portion of your body.

    "Battered old" is pretty much redundant -- not to mention unimaginative.

    Try something a little less stale: "time worn," "battle scarred," "weather beaten," or you could skipped the cliches altogether and go for something more original like "I looked at Phenix City through a death mask."

    "Lucky or not I shall wear it as I walk into Phenix City. Though I
    cheated in my gambling I wound up broke anyway."

    "Lucky or not" implies that you have already labeled your face as one "lucky" or "unlucky." You haven't. So "lucky or not" is incorrect.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke."

    This "poem" reads more like prose than poetry, but if you keep the prose fresh, it might work as a JD Senetto style slice of life.

    "And I come, and I pay the zombie w*ores and walking dead. While the
    dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head."

    And you blew it.

    Literally. Shot your load in your already crusty blue jeans. Why would you need the services of zombie whores if you already came?

    And there you go again, using pronouns without first introducing the noun.

    If the head belonged to Clay the Gay, you would need to name Clay the Gay *before* referring to him with a pronoun ("his").

    "Zombie whores" could be more original, but who are the "walking dead" that you're paying? If you're calling the whores both "zombies" and "walking dead," you're being redundant.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie whore, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head."

    "One more trip over that bridge to the kissing booth. Where there's
    smoke there may be fire and this time I got burned."

    Cliched homilies have no place in poetry.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie whore, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head.

    One last trip over the bridge to the kissing booth; but I got burned."

    Cut the dharma bum shit. That's Kerouac, not Donkey. Quit stealing other people's lines, put-downs, and comebacks.

    "I walk this beach at midnight like a zen dharma beach bum. And I am
    saved, and I turn."

    "I watch the drunken poets, and my lawyer. While the dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head."

    I don't believe that some bum gambling and whoring at Phenix City has a lawyer. A parole officer, maybe... but not a lawyer.

    Is the lawyer the clay headed one who loses his halo? I don't think so, but that's what your poem is saying.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie whore, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head.

    One last trip over the bridge to the kissing booth; but I got burned.

    I walk along the midnight beach; watch drunken poets dancing on the sand.

    The dark lady in the sunglasses takes the halo from my clay head."

    -Will Dockery (1997)

    ***
    Original text restored, troll content removed.

    This is better, but still needs work.

    The transition from the gambling to the whoring moves too quickly, and more time could be spent on establishing the atmosphere (for readers who've never been to Phenix City): neon lights, smoky rooms, etc.

    Also the dark lady is coming out of nowhere. Who (or what) is she?

    And how does the speaker, who frequents the dens of ill repute in Phenix City have a halo for her to take?

    You need to better define your ideas and work them through before trying to set them down on paper.

    True, my poetry of this era was specifically written in a spontaneous style promoted by poets such as Jack Kerouac, who opposed heavy editing.

    This is a response to the post seen at: http://www.jlaforums.com/viewtopic.php?p=699930600#699930600
    --
    Poetry and songs of Will Dockery:
    https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
    --- Synchronet 3.21a-Linux NewsLink 1.2
  • From Will Dockery@user3274@newsgrouper.org.invalid to alt.arts.poetry.comments on Mon Jan 5 13:10:05 2026
    From Newsgroup: alt.arts.poetry.comments


    mpsilvertone@yahoo-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (HarryLime) posted:
    Will Dockery wrote:

    Sunglass.

    "Sunglasses." Since you say "a pair of sunglasses," the noun is always plural.

    "This battered old shell looks like a death mask.

    A "shell" would be your complete body, but a "death mask" would only have been taken from your face.

    You cannot refer to your face as a shell, since your face only covers a small portion of your body.

    "Battered old" is pretty much redundant -- not to mention unimaginative.

    Try something a little less stale: "time worn," "battle scarred," "weather beaten," or you could skipped the cliches altogether and go for something more original like "I looked at Phenix City through a death mask."

    "Lucky or not I shall wear it as I walk into Phenix City. Though I
    cheated in my gambling I wound up broke anyway."

    "Lucky or not" implies that you have already labeled your face as one "lucky" or "unlucky." You haven't. So "lucky or not" is incorrect.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke."

    This "poem" reads more like prose than poetry, but if you keep the prose fresh, it might work as a JD Senetto style slice of life.

    "And I come, and I pay the zombie w*ores and walking dead. While the
    dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head."

    And you blew it.

    Literally. Shot your load in your already crusty blue jeans. Why would you need the services of zombie whores if you already came?

    And there you go again, using pronouns without first introducing the noun.

    If the head belonged to Clay the Gay, you would need to name Clay the Gay *before* referring to him with a pronoun ("his").

    "Zombie whores" could be more original, but who are the "walking dead" that you're paying? If you're calling the whores both "zombies" and "walking dead," you're being redundant.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie whore, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head."

    "One more trip over that bridge to the kissing booth. Where there's
    smoke there may be fire and this time I got burned."

    Cliched homilies have no place in poetry.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie whore, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head.

    One last trip over the bridge to the kissing booth; but I got burned."

    Cut the dharma bum shit. That's Kerouac, not Dxxxxxx. Quit stealing other people's lines, put-downs, and comebacks.

    "I walk this beach at midnight like a zen dharma beach bum. And I am
    saved, and I turn."

    "I watch the drunken poets, and my lawyer. While the dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head."

    I don't believe that some bum gambling and whoring at Phenix City has a lawyer. A parole officer, maybe... but not a lawyer.

    Is the lawyer the clay headed one who loses his halo? I don't think so, but that's what your poem is saying.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie whore, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head.

    One last trip over the bridge to the kissing booth; but I got burned.

    I walk along the midnight beach; watch drunken poets dancing on the sand.

    The dark lady in the sunglasses takes the halo from my clay head."

    -Will Dockery (1997)

    ***
    Original text restored, troll content removed.

    This is better, but still needs work.

    The transition from the gambling to the whoring moves too quickly, and more time could be spent on establishing the atmosphere (for readers who've never been to Phenix City): neon lights, smoky rooms, etc.

    Also the dark lady is coming out of nowhere. Who (or what) is she?

    And how does the speaker, who frequents the dens of ill repute in Phenix City have a halo for her to take?

    You need to better define your ideas and work them through before trying to set them down on paper.

    This is a response to the post seen at: http://www.jlaforums.com/viewtopic.php?p=699930600#699930600

    Again, back in 1997 I was following the Jack Kerouac poetry mantra somewhat heavily:

    ***

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mexico_City_Blues

    "I want to be considered a jazz poet, blowing a long blues in an afternoon jam session on Sunday. I take 242 choruses; my ideas vary and sometimes roll from chorus to chorus or from halfway through a chorus to halfway into the next." -Jack Kerouac

    ***

    Like I said, a lot of my own poetry was written over the years using this and similar methods.
    --
    Poetry and songs of Will Dockery:
    https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
    --- Synchronet 3.21a-Linux NewsLink 1.2
  • From will.dockery@will.dockery@gmail-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (Will-Dockery) to alt.arts.poetry.comments on Wed Jan 7 01:10:44 2026
    From Newsgroup: alt.arts.poetry.comments

    HarryLime wrote:

    Will-Dockery wrote:
    Sunglass.

    "Sunglasses." Since you say "a pair of sunglasses," the noun is always plural.

    "This battered old shell looks like a death mask.

    A "shell" would be your complete body, but a "death mask" would only have been taken from your face.

    You cannot refer to your face as a shell, since your face only covers a small portion of your body.

    "Battered old" is pretty much redundant -- not to mention unimaginative.

    Try something a little less stale: "time worn," "battle scarred," "weather beaten," or you could skipped the cliches altogether and go for something more original like "I looked at Phenix City through a death mask."

    "Lucky or not I shall wear it as I walk into Phenix City. Though I
    cheated in my gambling I wound up broke anyway."

    "Lucky or not" implies that you have already labeled your face as one "lucky" or "unlucky." You haven't. So "lucky or not" is incorrect.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke."

    This "poem" reads more like prose than poetry, but if you keep the prose fresh, it might work as a JD Senetto style slice of life.

    "And I come, and I pay the zombie w*ores and walking dead. While the
    dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head."

    And you blew it.

    Literally. Shot your load in your already crusty blue jeans. Why would you need the services of zombie w*ores if you already came?

    And there you go again, using pronouns without first introducing the noun. >>
    If the head belonged to Clay the Gay, you would need to name Clay the Gay *before* referring to him with a pronoun ("his").

    "Zombie w*ores" could be more original, but who are the "walking dead" that you're paying? If you're calling the w*ores both "zombies" and "walking dead," you're being redundant.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie wh*re, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head."

    "One more trip over that bridge to the kissing booth. Where there's
    smoke there may be fire and this time I got burned."

    Cliched homilies have no place in poetry.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie wh*re, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head.

    One last trip over the bridge to the kissing booth; but I got burned."

    Cut the dharma bum sh*t. That's Kerouac, not Donkey. Quit stealing other people's lines, put-downs, and comebacks.

    "I walk this beach at midnight like a zen dharma beach bum. And I am
    saved, and I turn."

    "I watch the drunken poets, and my lawyer. While the dark lady in
    sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head."

    I don't believe that some bum gambling and whoring at Phenix City has a lawyer. A parole officer, maybe... but not a lawyer.

    Is the lawyer the clay headed one who loses his halo? I don't think so, but that's what your poem is saying.

    "I stared at Phenix City through a death mask.

    A face like this couldn't possibly bring me luck.

    Lucky or not, I wore it through three hands of poker; and even though I cheated, I still wound up broke.

    I paid my last ten dollars to a zombie wh*re, while the
    dark lady in sunglasses took the halo from my clay head.

    One last trip over the bridge to the kissing booth; but I got burned.

    I walk along the midnight beach; watch drunken poets dancing on the sand.

    The dark lady in the sunglasses takes the halo from my clay head."

    -Will Dockery (1997)

    ***
    Original text restored, troll content removed.


    This is better, but still needs work.

    The transition from the gambling to the whoring moves too quickly, and more time could be spent on establishing the atmosphere (for readers who've never been to Phenix City): neon lights, smoky rooms, etc.

    Also the dark lady is coming out of nowhere. Who (or what) is she?

    And how does the speaker, who frequents the dens of ill repute in Phenix City have a halo for her to take?

    You need to better define your ideas and work them through before trying to set them down on paper.



    Thanks again, all good suggestions.


    This is a response to the post seen at: http://www.jlaforums.com/viewtopic.php?p=699930600#699930600
    --- Synchronet 3.21a-Linux NewsLink 1.2
  • From will.dockery@will.dockery@gmail-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (Will-Dockery) to alt.arts.poetry.comments on Thu Jan 8 09:54:51 2026
    From Newsgroup: alt.arts.poetry.comments

    Will-Dockery wrote:
    Sunglass.

    This battered old shell looks like a death mask.

    Lucky or not I shall wear it as I walk into Phenix City. Though I
    cheated in my gambling I wound up broke anyway.

    And I come, and I pay the zombie w*ores and walking dead. While the
    dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.

    One more trip over that bridge to the kissing booth. Where there's
    smoke there may be fire and this time I got burned.

    I walk this beach at midnight like a zen dharma beach bum. And I am
    saved, and I turn.

    I watch the drunken poets, and my lawyer. While the dark lady in
    sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.

    -Will Dockery (1997)

    ***
    Original text restored, troll content removed.



    Sunglass.

    This battered old shell looks like a death mask.

    Lucky or not I shall wear it as I walk into Phenix City. Though I
    cheated in my gambling I wound up broke anyway.

    And I come, and I pay the zombie w*ores and walking dead. While the
    dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.

    One more trip over that bridge to the kissing booth. Where there's
    smoke there may be fire and this time I got burned.

    I walk this beach at midnight like a zen dharma beach bum. And I am
    saved, and I turn.

    I watch the drunken poets, and my lawyer. While the dark lady in
    sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.

    -Will Dockery (1997)

    ***
    (Original text restored, troll content removed.)


    This is a response to the post seen at: http://www.jlaforums.com/viewtopic.php?p=699930600#699930600
    --- Synchronet 3.21a-Linux NewsLink 1.2
  • From will.dockery@will.dockery@gmail-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (Will-Dockery) to alt.arts.poetry.comments on Sun Jan 11 14:24:22 2026
    From Newsgroup: alt.arts.poetry.comments

    Will-Dockery wrote:
    Sunglass.

    This battered old shell looks like a death mask.

    Lucky or not I shall wear it as I walk into Phenix City. Though I
    cheated in my gambling I wound up broke anyway.

    And I come, and I pay the zombie w*ores and walking dead. While the
    dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.

    One more trip over that bridge to the kissing booth. Where there's
    smoke there may be fire and this time I got burned.

    I walk this beach at midnight like a zen dharma beach bum. And I am
    saved, and I turn.

    I watch the drunken poets, and my lawyer. While the dark lady in
    sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.

    -Will Dockery (1997)

    ***
    Original text restored, troll content removed.



    Sunglass.

    This battered old shell looks like a death mask.

    Lucky or not I shall wear it as I walk into Phenix City. Though I
    cheated in my gambling I wound up broke anyway.

    And I come, and I pay the zombie w*ores and walking dead. While the
    dark lady in sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.

    One more trip over that bridge to the kissing booth. Where there's
    smoke there may be fire and this time I got burned.

    I walk this beach at midnight like a zen dharma beach bum. And I am
    saved, and I turn.

    I watch the drunken poets, and my lawyer. While the dark lady in
    sunglasses takes the halo from his clay head.

    -Will Dockery (1997)

    ***
    Original text restored, troll content removed.


    This is a response to the post seen at: http://www.jlaforums.com/viewtopic.php?p=699930600#699930600
    --- Synchronet 3.21a-Linux NewsLink 1.2