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Hardboiled Heart (Free verse) by T. Jonathron Remp
Tragedy, infantile. The calendar, called Infinite, rains, rains. The trade wind brings me tall tales of your heart gone Wild in the Indies, the plains, the plains. Travel towards, forever reaching, screaming. Travel North, South, East, NORTH. Slide whispers under the doorstep. Each morning, gore me with forceps. Texas Four-step. Minus Two. Minus You. You never reach for me, longing, breathing. Keep small dedications under my pillow. Writs of love past, our love: Passed. My mind drifts, wafts, splits, continues to lift. Rain, rain, rain. In February, you drained me, drained, drained. In March, you split my chest cavity, gravity. Sizzle, my heart cracks on the Teflon. Over easy, easy, hard. Pop.

Up the ladder: Six deaths
Down the ladder: Depression

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Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
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Arithmetic Mean: 6.6666665
Weighted score: 5.1986713
Overall Rank: 4603
Posted: June 17, 2008 9:20 PM PDT; Last modified: June 17, 2008 9:20 PM PDT
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Comments:
[4] nentwined @ 98.148.150.246 | 26-Jun-08/8:33 PM | Reply
Could be good lyrics. The randomness of what you grasp at is the main detractor for me--I can't gel any particular image/meaning/point out of the poem, and that makes any possible insights ... less.
[6] SupremeDreamer @ 68.123.141.188 | 9-Jul-08/11:11 PM | Reply
Anybody care for a split heard omelette?

Six.
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