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About Literature / Hobbyist Premium Member Andrew Liu20/Male/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 6 Years
7 Month Premium Membership:
Given by thetaoofchaos
Statistics 403 Deviations 1,406 Comments 12,467 Pageviews

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My first impression of this piece is that it isn't too ambitious and is written mostly for therapeutic purposes. I honestly didn't thin...

Hello, I will be critiquing your piece on behalf of :icongrammarnazicritiques:. I will do my best to help by suggesting improvements that can be made and genera...



By the time you read this,
thousands of us will be dead.
We will have all known you
and passed on, grandmas
and grandpas of the old you,
boarding the huge, gay cruise
to the sky. We will throw paper,
some old poems, at you
and your crowd of one.
Will you have found a husband?
Or even some boy to like?
Will he be grown in his head, body,
or heart? What will the future be
like? we wonder. But our time
spent, our money gone, our faces
dissolved into microscopic dots
in the swelling air of autumn,
we leave you be. In time,
we see you. Heading up
the mountain shore, just
barely skimming the surface.
Even now, so much higher
than the rest of us have reached,
at such an elevation above
absolute sea level, here is
the sea that swallows everything.
Here is your hand reaching up
to touch us, the loose sand
tickling our souls,
our half-submerged feet.
In the city gardens
street lights flicker to life
illuminating the darkness
in spreading circles like clocks.
These shadows move like second hands,
marking the perimeter, fencing it in,
or else to join and bridge the dark
with light, hovering over flowers,
colliding with their neat rows,
unbidden, uninvited, rudely intruding,
unfolding like a faceless spring.
People and lovers crowd the spaces.
They perform their roles, projecting
a swollen reflection of loveliness
or else dwelling in the well of themselves.
None see the light playing games
with their shadows, tangling, cradled,
wrapping around, about each other like snakes
and vines and chains and passion flower,
broken by their careless hosts, musing, lost
inside themselves. Inside the spreading light,
floating like streams of pulsing planets, just barely,
it rises to the surface: a small shadow universe,
bursting with florals, alive with nameless intent,
festival ghosts in the forests of the night.
In the city streets, alive with noise,
people crowd the garden, blind
to the universe spreading at their feet.
The dark and light can barely contain their joy,
concrete superimposed, already aglow
with galaxies, the low-soul halation
of this lush, dreamlike world.
Hiding in the darkness, their full-
bodied selves dance, falter,
and start. Pulling together
or coming apart.
Here's how I like it done:
never exist, except in my world
created out of bits, a voice, a sentence,
pieces of paper, lineaments
of foam. Collect forever
in an empty attic. Disappoint me,
if it works, I'll endure. Come calling
in the form of a book, or fanart,
or a face in imagined space.
Lose your tenuous connection.
Collapse into towering disillusionment.
I will have followed you
as a ghost follows the past it haunts.
I will have emerged
inside a world hollow with artificial stars.
Even if I can tell the choir is hoarse,
even if I can hear the acid in the notes,
I'll still waltz to your music, silent in stepping
dance after dance, routine, shuddering block-leaded
dance, feet hurting, head hurting. I shatter and ripple.
I go down into a thousand pieces. I sit, still hurting,
cold, on a swaying ride. You are down there,
looking up from a lonely crowd. Or else
plastered on a billboard, sprayed out in
angry letters across highway straits.
Your look is the look of pre-packaged hate.
Come across the room, stride out
in the empty sky. God knows
how beautiful you appear
dressed in nothing,
its woven static.
If I reach out,
like Narcissus
I'll isolate myself.
But I won't, I'll hold you
for as long as my memory lasts.
And if you'll have me,
I'll gladly inscribe your name
in the space between my fingers,
in the air behind my eyes.
So you can cross your feet and wave,
so you may weave and weave forever,
between love and affectation,
use and disappointment, so that you
may dwell in a darkened world
lit only in the light of my little damn lie.

Suggested Reading

Journal Entry: Fri Apr 24, 2015, 12:29 PM

Was going through top ten sites and browsing randomly. Here's some poems I found:

"Diameter" by Michelle Y. Burke…

I like it for the way it puns on Diameter/Demeter. I like it for the way it compares stemming the gap of grief with geometry problems of circumference and diameter. I like it for the way it looks at grief as a solvable problem, even though it isn't. I like the way it approaches the impossible world after death.

"Factory Town" by Austin Smith…

I never knew you could enjamb like that. Turn smokestacks into cigarettes, trains into wedding veils. A river! A horse running from a gunshot.

"Casa" by Rigoberto Gonzalez

It's like Plath's "Mirror" but a thousand times more angry. Whereas Mirror is totally objective until the woman peers into the lake of the second stanza, thus filling it with all the human vulnerabilities and anxious hand-wringing of a dying body, "Casa" refuses to sympathize with anything that fills it. All the abnormalities and variations on normality play through years in this house, this speaker, so hollow, so empty, because in the end it is just a set of walls. It is not alive. It does not care about you or anyone. It feels nothing. But it sees you so clearly for the broken parts, its dispassionate voice and annoyance at your sentiment and human needs, it cannot help but mix its stone with its echoing music.…

"Government Spending" by Patricia Lockwood

Because it is damn funny. The funniest poet I've ever read. Fuck Edward Lear, fuck Kenneth Koch. This is irony in a tutu and steel umbrella. This is poetry with genuine mirth.…

"Preface to a Twenty-Volume Suicide Note" by Amiri Baraka

I'm working with narrative free verse. This is good narrative free verse. What's more to say?…

"Love" by Lloyd Schwartz

It's long but the ending is so worth it.…


Andrew Liu
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Andrew Liu, 20, student at East Los Angeles College, loves to write. That's me in the picture, staring at the Lansdowne Herakles in the Getty Villa. I've been writing since 2007 and I started poetry in 2011. My favorite genres are urban fantasy (Harry Potter, Percy and the Olympians) and fantasy (Cry of the Icemark, American Gods, Good Omens). I mostly write poetry. I switched over from prose because I could never manage to finish writing short stories. I write as a hobby but hope to make a career out of teaching and writing.

I'm an English major. My favorite period is American Modernism. I've read T.S. Eliot, E.E. Cummings, Robert Frost, Wallace Stevens. My all-time favorite pieces of poetry are varied: Cathy Song "Cloud Moving Hands", Sharon Olds "The Elder Sister" & "I Go Back to May, 1937", Sylvia Plath "Mirror" & "Fever 103", Mark Doty "Tiara", Elizabeth Bishop "The Fish", and Muriel Rukeyser "Song for Dead Children."

If I were to summarize my writing style in three words it would be: lush, dream-like, and intense. People have always told me that I'm very good at imagery and description, but not so much at editing or making sure my work flows effortlessly.

Other hobbies I have include video games, anime, and more reading I guess. All time favorite video games: Folklore (PS3), Bastion (PC), Dust: An Elysian Tale (PC), Persona 4 (PS2). All time favorite animes: Natsume Yuujinchou (Natsume's Book of Friends), Puella Magi Madoka Magica (Magical Girl Madoka), Nodame Cantabile, Ao no Exorcist (Blue Exorcist-manga only), and Magi (again, manga only). All time favorite books: Caramelo (Sandra Cisneros), American Gods (Neil Gaiman), The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald), Asterios Polyp (David Mazzuchelli), Like Water For Chocolate (Laura Esquivel), and Fahrenheit 451 (Ray Bradbury).



Add a Comment:
BlackBowfin Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Hello Andrew.  Thank you kindly for the fave.  :)
TheGlassIris Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome. Hey, do you give critiques or feedback?
BlackBowfin Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Sure.  I occasionally do.  I don't go too deep, because I'm not super-technically trained (or skilled). Why do you ask?  Is there a piece you'd like looked at?
TheGlassIris Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Yeah. Is it okay if I note you?
Grimful-Recitals Featured By Owner May 18, 2015  New member Student Writer
Great page :) Would you care to critique some of my work? Keep it up:)
TheGlassIris Featured By Owner May 18, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you. Looking over your work, I don't feel I have anything constructive to say. You too.
AngoraART Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2015  Professional Digital Artist
Thank you for the llama badge! :)

Bunny Emoji-87 (Thanks) [V5] Llama Emoji-03 (Sparkles) [V1]
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2015   General Artist
hello there, lovely person! :huggle:
this is to inform you that i have made use of one of the titles of your poetry in my title poem over here: :love:
i hope that this is alright with you, pray that you enjoy the read, and thank you for your inspirational artistry! :eager: <3
akrasiel Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2014   General Artist
Thank you so much for reading and favouriting my work. :huggle:
Ponix7 Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014
I am amazed by the diligence and discipline you have for writing, including the sheer volume posted on DA.  It motivates me to do more, and I enjoy reading your work.
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