vendredi, juin 24, 2005

By any other name ...

.
.
.
Everywhere I walked
the scent of vagueness had been there
in the need to describe
what it was in an overbearing fruit,
what it had been with the weather;
why I always had to repeat myself.
.
.
Even while I slept,
petals kept falling from the ceiling
and I tried shielding myself from this,
the indelible scent of vagueness,
rubbing off on the blankets.
The weather had not been forgiving
so I always had to repeat myself
for the sake of elucidation.
.
.
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3 Truths:

Blogger - litol figgy -in a hightened sense of self mumbled ...

sadly, sometimes, even if we repeat ourselves, it still doesn't help...

vendredi, juin 24, 2005 8:33:00 AM  
Blogger paningitin a hightened sense of self mumbled ...

keep repeating yourself and you'll end up misquoting yourself.

vendredi, juin 24, 2005 7:33:00 PM  
Blogger bismuthin a hightened sense of self mumbled ...

and sometimes the misquote is better than the verbatim version. but i love this post. the form, the subtle attacks on misery, everything.

lundi, juin 27, 2005 1:02:00 PM  

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