Tag: poetics
member name: xanthe l.
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March 20, 2007 10:29 AM EDT --
I thought I understood. That the elements were in place.
That the usual signs meant the usual things, so how was I to know that
this time the signs were topsy turvy?
That when all road signs pointed . . .
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March 17, 2007 12:48 PM EDT --
Draw it out. Pick up your philosophy stick and use it
draw in the sand. Draw for me a circle and tell me -
so measure each corner - an impossibility you say.
So divide each into sections, now tell me . . .
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February 26, 2007 08:08 PM EST --
It is Isaiah's Axim;
a thing that will always be between we without intent ~
provided all the variables line up.
The Axim calls first for A. B. (me, you) to be
closetogether
C. some measure . . .
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February 26, 2007 06:50 PM EST --
You have just left and still I can taste you.
The sage of your kiss, redolent on
my tongue. I drink you in, savoring each
drop. Some consolation that I know
you too think the same. That as . . .
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February 14, 2007 07:34 PM EST --
It is hard to shrug off the shroud of sorrow and regret.
It is hard to forget five, ten years of one's life - no matter how bad, good the reason.
So much bad, enough good. All you thought understood . . .
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February 27, 2007 04:24 PM EST --
Sweet. Doux. Miel.
That was the word...Words.
Just last week you used them, such words.
I was sweet. Just like honey. And only then, because I let you see.
Stupidly, I let down my social guard, façade . . .
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February 13, 2007 02:37 PM EST --
All I have to say to say is do it and you do.
You speak to me of times when perhaps this won’t be possible;
perhaps we will grow old and then… then we will be sorry
So we live in the . . .
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February 14, 2007 12:21 PM EST --
I tell myself it's not a sin. You say no. Non.
Never emphasis on word; you seal it with a kiss in the pew.
How serious then are we, church returned, absolved.
You, blessed as a saint, light, you . . .
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February 16, 2007 01:14 PM EST --
It was after that dream that it happened.
That dream of Israel and us -
you chased me around the chalky, high-walled alleys.
I heard the slip of your foot as it slid in its sandal
I could almost . . .
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March 02, 2007 12:18 PM EST --
Three times you kiss me, lip-slip, an almost there.
Still, your mouth lingers on the forehead, a cross, rosy blessing.
Mother says her of her book of White Magic says:
Ask a direct question...
The . . .
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February 13, 2007 09:28 AM EST --
Okay, so you said to meet you here and now what?
Is the tree rich with such fruit and more, dare one partake.
What you present, love, is temptation and god, would I bite
Would it be enough to sit beneath . . .
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February 13, 2007 10:41 AM EST --
You, consanguineous
The you/me as far back as I recall.
Passes/Possession - I am left wondering.
How you coaxed me open - a rare flower you'd found
How you caught the scent of me and had to have, . . .
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February 25, 2007 02:59 PM EST --
How that glass façade has served me well!
I painted it black, hid in the corner behind my dark glasses.
Me - the wise-owl in the corner, observing all.
That is what you saw, then you saw...
. . .
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February 13, 2007 09:35 AM EST --
If I can always parse the distance,
it is always to your south that I fall.
And if I ever needed salvation, it would be to you that I would run.
And if all the earth shook, you would remain unshakable, . . .
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February 13, 2007 10:22 AM EST --
For the fifth or sixth time this hour I see you smile,
hearty and full, no holds barred, you toss it back,
let it all come down and it does
is in the linden-green of your eyes,
the bright pearl of . . .
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February 20, 2007 11:26 AM EST --
What if it should happen;
what if in the middle of a broad avenue, New York
the September sky dimmed and our hands slipped naturally -
each to the other and held as they have so many times... . . .
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February 28, 2007 08:48 AM EST --
3:30 a.m| sweet
Such exacting words:
One exchange on a grey bittersweet day, things we.
Love comes at inconvenient times.
We - we forge our alliance; share our secrets.
This . . .
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February 15, 2007 09:02 PM EST --
She sings, Je Reviens and it hits home each time.
Each time she sings it is the swing of a church bell
that somehow she curls, rings with her tongue,
the tone of it soft, the alto fifth just as I used . . .
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