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#1 | |
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Ra
Join Date: Oct 2009
Location: Levantine wine country
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At Dark
On my window I taped
the ten commandments words modelled to a world sunk, forgotful of its lessons, forgotful of duty like kindergardeners, playing forever until next year when the sun isn't blue with ashes. She's coughing, she hasn't got that tan, golden, proud, sullen. We haven't got any light maybe candles, oh frail candle light, oh sun, sullen, tan we miss you at night, at dark At dark Bullets at dark are so far, songs single-file, like boys lined up trapping air against their teeth, harmonizing, like rain droplets--no, more organized; faustian, (we made a deal with our home), failures, faint, in our home we are the world, in our home Our home--where? Not in the rain, nor are we children in line with purpose. The dead, never undead, what can we say to a grandfather with no grandchildren, rolling on a cinderblock, again like a child. So primal, loss, basic loss, like children. "What do we say to the nice man?" "Thank you," the world said, "and happy new year".
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#2 |
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Registered User
Join Date: Dec 2012
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I Liked it. I enjoyed your use of imagery but I think you detached it just slightly too far from the base meaning but beyond that, I thought it was really good
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#3 | |
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Ra
Join Date: Oct 2009
Location: Levantine wine country
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Thank you.
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