| Re: love song by <~> |
16-Aug-02/11:14 AM |
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| Re: The Ballet Studio by Corey McHattan |
16-Aug-02/6:24 AM |
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oh. oh. i like the way this poem mixes sugar and spice and crawling skin. very uncomfortable.
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| Re: Daughter by pkdrunner |
15-Aug-02/7:40 PM |
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| Re: love song by <~> |
15-Aug-02/6:34 PM |
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no, i'm sorry doylum. you only get to watch. as you know, i'm only attracted to men who abuse me. that's the real reason i can't face my creditors at the reckoning.
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| Re: love song by <~> |
15-Aug-02/6:24 PM |
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no, i think it was Frass who referred to the "the 'mature' poets and phlegm hockers" , and i figured he was drawing a line between us. i don't recall any phlegm poems from you, (which seems a shame), although he has praised what i have posted on the site. (he even called 'white harvest' dickensian, of which you surely were aware when you titled your 'piece.') glad i have fans. that's not why i do it. the mishapen business--the way you trailed it off at the end... i did not think you were mocking me; i thought you were tongue-in-cheeking the form.
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| Re: love song by <~> |
15-Aug-02/6:07 PM |
fun with shapes!!! fun with shapes!!! it's not meant to be serious, except maybe to seriously stir things up. shape poems remind me of making paperchains with construction paper--just don't eat too much paste. so, it's a silly shape, with a little naughtiness thrown in for good measure. it's been a while, so a body gets to thinking...musical instruments notwithstanding. man, i'm almost sorry i started this. almost. all in good fun, lads. and i hardly consider myself a 'mature poet'. by the variety of stuff i am posting here one might postulate that i am experimenting. you see, when you are a -=Dark_ master, you don't have to stick to form; you can break it to make your point. and what a fine upright point has been made there. nice and thick. i'm sure p&k is all-over jealous: a triangle, and now a violin for me, and, for the master, a sturdy flesh obelisk. "ce n'est pas une pipe." go team!
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| Re: love song by <~> |
15-Aug-02/1:19 PM |
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i play. i wondered whether to post it, thus conjuring hordes of butterflies and diaries and whutknot. i took the chance. we shall see what comes of it....
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| Re: 13 Pianos (after Wallace Stevens) by jconnors3 |
15-Aug-02/1:03 PM |
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| Re: school reunion by irishfolksuicide |
15-Aug-02/10:26 AM |
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yum yum. drip drip. i hope they have an enjoyable evening....
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| Re: white harvest by <~> |
15-Aug-02/10:07 AM |
my world is so very similar to yours that sometimes i think that they might be the same, but then i remember: my world is full of grey. my world is refillable 3 times before 6/28/03. the edge of it scars my feet. on either side is a chasm. the path will flatten again; it always does. have you forgotten what that's like, to be away for a while? or are you an uber-mensch, who has never lost his balance?
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| Re: white harvest by <~> |
15-Aug-02/9:42 AM |
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ah, dearest d, we come from different worlds, don't we? i never said i was UNABLE to pay my debts... that's not what it's about. at all. sorry i didn't live up to your expectations, but i bet that happens a lot. regardless of my own state of 'unclean,' i feel that the poem is clean. ta.
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| Re: white harvest by <~> |
15-Aug-02/8:59 AM |
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i never spurned you, d, even when you were so very immediate
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| Re: white harvest by <~> |
15-Aug-02/8:58 AM |
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was it just this piece that earned me ranks in 'the great unwahed'?
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| Re: A mountain song by kawakurdi |
14-Aug-02/10:50 PM |
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some very pleasing imagery, but there's a fable in here, and it wants to out. let it.
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| Re: Front, Porch, Swing. by horus8 |
14-Aug-02/10:38 PM |
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--oh, the poem--i don't get the transition from description to conflict. i see there's inherent unrest, but i think that you have become more adept at the weave and wake since 6/99. thanks for the explanation of the scenario. broken dreams clutter the curbside; unworn wishes piled in the attic like so many christmas sweaters are more haunting than the ghosts of the past. future perfect never was. tense. as for the beer, sierra nevdada started the evening. down to coors light and a very old scotch ale, which it's about 80 degrees too hot too drink tonight, but i mat have to bite the bullit, and take one for the team. still no muse. damned if i haven't drained every can and bottle looking for her, though. as far as the pros and cons of arguing, yep, i know. i was married for 5 years, and we came to a fork in the road. thanks a lot, robert frost. we both took a 50% best travelled road. no arguing about the path at all, just, see ya. salty indeed. beer foam salt. what kinda red red you nosing tonight?
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| Re: the door by wuying |
14-Aug-02/9:57 PM |
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okay, i get that, but not from the poem. for example, you say that the door never speaks, though it tries. i generally find obstacles to be indifferent to my plight. and, i'm sure that everyone and everything that challenges me does not have any special insight into my soul. i'm not trying to be argumentative; i just think this got a little mystical for what you were aiming at. and, why torn in two? see, i think there's much that can be said here, but i think you are not putting down everything you have worked through in your thoughts. have you read it aloud to yourself? sometimes hearing it is much much different than writing or reading it. the ears 'see' what the familiar eye does not. tighten.
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| Re: the door by wuying |
14-Aug-02/9:41 PM |
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what is the truth behind door #1? this could be a good story; i think the forced rhyming pulled you away from what you were trying to say. man, i feel dense tonight. maybe it is all there, and i just can't see it. is it?
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| Re: Friends Forever by x311 |
14-Aug-02/9:35 PM |
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uneven rhyme weakens this, as does lack of detail
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| Re: Masked by savannah |
14-Aug-02/9:33 PM |
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angry about the mask. hmm. i've got a closet full of them. you will too, someday. i think it's the whispering behind it, more than the mask itself. just think about how small that space is, between the lies and the mask. heat it up. put a mirror behind him to catch them as they flow out from his(?) poisoned lips. bottle them up. what color are they, the daggered, dripping lies? and how do so many hide away behind the carved insides?
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| Re: After The Rain by Lil_Chick_512 |
14-Aug-02/9:28 PM |
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all that punctuation dampens the spirit, before the clouds even gather in the sky
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