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<Brennen> I sort of fixed these so they are readable again. A downside would be that they are in fixed-width text. I should figure out some kind of poetry notation so that it's easier to write with the line breaks.
= the dude on a moped poem =
Dude on a moped. Yellow moped. White dude. Driving down Interstate in boring Ohio. A blip in my vision and then gone forever like a bug flying past the car that actually doesn't hit the windshield. (It doesn't seem there are many of those, but really how would you know?)
Drive, dude. Drive.
= the small wakefulnesses poem =
half past one a.m., house creaks with small wakefulnesses-- cellar spiders navigating stolen webs in concrete corners, always dark; drunken moths dash themselves against the lights and drape their folded wings on walls. all move under silences flung heavily into the air, heedless of the disembodied whispers in the hall.
(in their lives) sleep and wake are just the same.
somewhere within an arm's reach i can feel ghosts in motion, glinting shadows reaching forward toward memories i cannot see. windows trick reflections, wonder why i am afraid, and wait quietly as yesterday walks resolutely by.
:You know you're better at this game than I am.
Bah. Maybe one time in fifty. Have you any idea how much complete shit I've had the sheer audacity to commit to the page?\ But, thanks. That's a higher compliment than you think.
= the poem we mostly know too well =
icy dew at two a.m.-- you are on your knees, convulsions hidden by draped shadow and my jacket on your back.
(those last two beers were a mistake.)
flowing from this near-darkness breezes wake my tired mind; I think of the last two hours-- you crumpled on the bathroom floor a red streak in that pale room murmuring "I hate myself".
I sat on my knees and looked up to sky-blue hand towels embroidered with (what I think are) irises, as though praying at an altar.
= the sunrise 7:48 poem =
Tweak, nudge, shift, delete, beige keyboard keys clatter.
Maybe, just maybe, she thinks, I can finally sit back and say, "There."
:I added a newline after "mirrors.". Does that work? Because if it does, I think it's finished.
sunrise 7:48 a.m. belly-lit clouds rolling over-and-back, they are oceans, escaping swept out over Nebraska (no doubt regretting it, now) turn my car down the highway past bare frozen fields, sky's tide rising in the rear -view mirrors.
this one goes out to tomorrow.
= the inevitable poem =
Our family, gathered around the dining room table, is shrinking again--in numbers, and away from one another. Is this the irreversible trend, or just the day?
The world outside is bright blue, alert and despairing against glaring kitchen lights. Close the curtains, because every nightmare is approaching from across bare fields...
= ( = our family gathered around the dining room table is shrinking again -- in numbers and away from one another is this the irreversible trend or just the day?
the world outside is bright blue alert and despairing against glaring kitchen lights
close the curtains because every nightmare is approaching from across bare fields
= ) =
<caeb> holy buckets, this is still here.
<caeb> cough and i note there's a space in my name.
<Brennen> It's a software problem.
pick a name (required to comment or edit a page)
last edited April 28, 2007