Critique of “The Wood” by Nick Walsh


*”The Wood” starts with semi-regular meter and rhyme; (though the exact rhyme of wood/wood remains awkward anyway you slice it.)

*”His images” are like stars, lanterns, but also heavy, and also damp.
Damp stars?
Damp lanterns?
Heavy stars?
Heavy lanterns?
Heavy lanterns and stars, or just heavy lanterns and damp stars?
Or vice versa?
Or this that and the third?
Or all that and a bag of chips?
Are they damp chips, or heavy chips?
Or damp, heavy chips?

(Oh, they are a box of Garden Salsa Sun Chips left out in the rain?)
{Good imagery}

* Does “unfilled” mean the same in the poem as “unfulfilled” means in standard English?”

Are these the expectations he had from whom I blindly must term “The Girl?”

When did we stop talking about ‘The Wood’ and start talking about ‘The Girl?’

Are we in the wood?
Is the girl in the wood?
Is the wolf in the wood?
Is the wood in the wolf?
Where is the girl?
Is the girl in the wolf?
Is there a wolf?
There is a wood, and there must be a girl.
The wood must be in the girl!
Does the girl have a splinter?
Is she wearing a red hoodie?

-I’m grasping at moss here, completely lost and still trying to scan “The Wood” correctly. Line by line with this sh*t, typical Walsh.-

Does a wolf sh*t in the woods?
Is the pope a wolf?
There’s a wolf in the pope?

A pope in the wolf in the girl in the woods, is what I have so far, if I am correctly scanning “The Wood.”

* Oh, clearly his brain is waterlogged wood with the images floating above.# !

*The lines expand to (6) twelve-syllable lines and (8) thirteen syllable lines, and then metric regularity is elusive for the rest of the way out of “The Wood.”

* “Lied and cheated” are introduced as verbs before we we know that the pope is in the wolf is in the girl is in the woods, which is misleading at first glance.

For me, the imagery of the speaker’s body merging with the forest is very appealing. {cf. Bran Stark, cf. the “green man” of Anglican Churches, cf. that Guatemalan shaman from America who discovered he was really a Guatemalan shaman because he didn’t die in the jungle even though he probably should have died given the circumstances and then he wrote a book about it and is now a Guatemalan shaman, but for real, AND in trade paperback?)

Suggestions: What would result from change of tense, from the past tense to the present tense?

The poem ultimately fails, because only after the merging of the lover with the beloved does the beloved make her entrance. Other than that, a typical Nick Walsh poem, of which there are thousands, allegedly.$

# “Ant-teeming log.” “Dewy grass.” “Bed of snails.” “Tough cocoons.” “Wombat claws.” “Thorn bush.” “Cat-fur.” “Mushroom-cap.” “Stir of worms.” “Cobwebs.”

! Minor note: “she stepped” seems to modify “liquid pool” and not, as it should grammatically, “his belly.”

$ See also, “The Wood,” by Nick Walsh. I have lost my copy of “The Wood” by Nick Walsh, but I did still have my notes for the next meeting of the Poetry Club of Nick Walsh.



The man in this cologne ad
Trying to tell me
That I could smell
As good as he looks.

He fucking smells like date rape.
The handsome man fucking smells
like date rape.
Or like 15th street,
Take your fucking pick.


Some girl wearing JNCOS
Trying to tell me
That she understands my generation?

I fucking hate those pants
And I hate the people who wear them.

Except the Indian girl who asked
If I were Jewish because
She was Jewish because
That girl told me that
Electronica is really just
“Dancing to your two favorite songs at the same time,”
And then I saw how she danced
And I believed her.


A model’s tight dress
Helping me choose
The color of my cellphone?
I don’t even want a fucking
Why would I want
To ever fucking listen
To some fucking douchebag
Talk to his fucking mother?
Shit I hate those fucking things.


I might be a football star
If I ate the official chip
of the Fiesta Bowl?

I’m a basketball star,
Go fuck yourself.

Oh shit, your chips are round,
Big fucking whoop.


“Even A Communist Can Smoke”
Winston Cigarettes?
Communists roll their own,
Go fuck yourself
Unless you come to
Larry’s and have me
Fill out one of those forms
So that then you can hand
The communist
60 factory mades with filters.
But yeah, go fuck yourself.


Someone’s trying to sell me something
Everywhere I go.
But I already got all that I need.
Someone’s trying to tell me something
I don’t want to hear and
I don’t want to feed The Greed.

Our Boss

Our boss is an asshole, but he would never kill anyone.

Our boss is a self centered prick, but he didn’t mean anything by it.

Our boss would close a factory as quick as look at you, but he’s a really nice guy once you get to know him.

At work, our boss yells a lot. He had me and my wife over for dinner at his house once, and I was surprised at how nice he is in real life.

Our boss is the greatest salesman I have ever seen. I’m just glad he is on our side because he could sell you the shirt you are already wearing and he wouldn’t even ask for a receipt.

Jersey Cows To The Slaughter

Why the terrorists chose 6720 Sheridan as their tarjetas are unclear. P Speakers from oth think taks neglect to comment on confirmed intelligence ktthen received as ayment in a weapons for food program. This much is clear: The Educated assmume, Two White People Dieed.


As would be made clear in the general public in 20 years time, it is white pkTwo wh two white people did in fact perish in the tragedy which came to embarass the countries which had originally ordered the attak by the simple fact thatit would appear they murdered their own ppeople. Most of the victims of the Attack are known in the vulgar press as the “Shitpile Bombing.” ) were Emigrants of Pakistani Hindu Kush Kashmiri Hunter Warrior Chiefes and Bossees Bosses. And Uncles and GodParent.s Arrarrangely allied with them, the group picture of the brown faces westward as with bullet-bullet-eys.


We have entertainment.
We have sex.
We have erections.
We have tight skin and full breasts.
We have biceps.
We jump high and climb trees.
We sing and walk the towpath.
We wish we could find some pornography.

The Stone Age People Were Not Like That.
The Stone Age People Practiced Religions.

Pandora’s Pop Explosions

Ooh ooh Ahh Ahh You You Me Me
Baby baby
You are nice
I like you
Woo Woo Woo

Are you Single?
Let’s Go Out.
What’s Your Name?

Remember that song?

Da Da Da, Ooh Ooh Ooh, Ahh
Me and You

Tonight! Tonight! Oh Yeah!

Sometimes I think –
When we talk
It is bad
Or is it good?

Baby Baby Ohh Ooh-Ooh

Wa oh Wee oo Woo, Wa oh Wee oo Woo,

Please, Okay?
Please, Okay?
Let’s go out,
Baby Tonight.

Because you are Pretty and Maybe You’ll
Like Me
Once You Get To Know Me,

Ooh Woo Woo

{4/4 Time}
{Gross Revenue: $1,000,000,000,000}