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Literature Text
Echoic
Your core is refracted and deflected from
the straight path which
continues to lead you here.
Your transcendence,
although well documented,
lacked any sub-stantial
evidence
or clues on how to break
your punctuated fall.
R E S U R G E N C E
Fresh diffusal of cool silence
in this echoic theatre of beauty;
imitation of speech and gesture,
up
close
and personal.
You are replication,
my draft and fuzzy focus -
interpreted perfectly,
clearly defined fractal lines;
my better half
and improved reflection
lying in wait for me.
Your core is refracted and deflected from
the straight path which
continues to lead you here.
Your transcendence,
although well documented,
lacked any sub-stantial
evidence
or clues on how to break
your punctuated fall.
R E S U R G E N C E
Fresh diffusal of cool silence
in this echoic theatre of beauty;
imitation of speech and gesture,
up
close
and personal.
You are replication,
my draft and fuzzy focus -
interpreted perfectly,
clearly defined fractal lines;
my better half
and improved reflection
lying in wait for me.
Literature
Your Poem
On the twentieth day of July 69,
For the first time in history,
The moon landed on a man.
The first time such move had been attempted by a celestial body,
A great feat of precision,
Didn't crush the man at all.
You see, we see things from our eyes,
And everyone knows our eyes see upside down.
Or is that the right way up?
I could tell you about walking through deserts,
The beauty of running water, of rain,
You'd be thinking of TV shows.
When was the last time you were challenged,
Walked away from a conversation stunned.
Who are you listening to, me or yourself?
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Is meaning in the eye of t
Literature
Selectivity
Why a word? This is no particular thing.
It can't be defined in an objective way.
The unstated dangles by half-open mouths,
a yawn like a cat stretching blithely at noon
as silence leans back on an unbalanced stool --
let it fall. The moment suggests it should be so.
If I see that your eyes project pictures behind
the irises, protean circles and spires
of curious leadings in lines of blank swaths
of colour, then I should say nothing.
But I
now find my lips quaver with verbiage amiss
and I fail to a sentence, or rather, this kiss.
Literature
Our Issues
Your heart grew up in a black wooden box
and thought it fabulous,
its world of
right angles,
wood grain,
and eternal night.
It hated me when I bored the hole
that let the sun singe its eyes, cook its skin,
when rain collected the dirt on its skin
in a puddle beneath its feet and said:
"look how dirty you are, foul thing."
It hated and
hated and
still hates,
always crawling
under any
box it finds.
I kicked it
out of its hiding place.
It ran out howling, hating and being
ha
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Comments76
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Nice poem here, and with a very interesting structure (although there's an overtness to it, the structure, that bugs me a tad). Those first two stanzas are awfully abrupt, which works a little given the effect of the "after-"resurgence. *well-documented? *substantial? If these two hyphenation changes were purposeful, why? I have some ideas, but they're not very solid. Why "You are replication" instead of "You are a replication"? The fragmentation with the line breaks of "up / close / and personal" is jarring, in a good way. And that last line's great, I like that bit of bite. (a very belated) Congrats on DD!