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    poetry


    dotsJournal: Donedots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Goodbye?

    So no one ever really comments here...it's getting a little depressing and empty...So I got went to WritersCafe.org...It's pretty nice so I'll doubt that I'll be checking here much. I'm leaving it up just in case something does happen...

    ...Created 2007-08-05 19:06:29

    dotsJournal: Summerdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Nuetral Milk Hotel

    What a beautiful face
    I have found in this place
    That is circling all round the sun
    What a beautiful dream
    That could flash on the screen
    In a blink of an eye and be gone from me
    Soft and sweet
    Let me hold it close and keep it here with me

    And one day we will die
    And our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea
    But for now we are young
    Let us lay in the sun
    And count every beautiful thing we can see
    Love to be
    In the arms of all I'm keeping here with me

    What a curious life we have found here tonight
    There is music that sounds from the street
    There are lights in the clouds
    Anne's ghost all around
    Hear her voice as it's rolling and ringing through me
    Soft and sweet
    How the notes all bend and reach above the trees

    Now how I remember you
    How I would push my fingers through
    Your mouth to make those muscles move
    That made your voice so smooth and sweet
    And now we keep where we don't know
    All secrets sleep in winter clothes
    With one you loved so long ago
    Now he don't even know his name

    What a beautiful face
    I have found in this place
    That is circling all round the sun
    And when we meet on a cloud
    I'll be laughing out loud
    I'll be laughing with everyone I see
    Can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all

    ...Created 2007-07-23 19:34:54

    dotsJournal: Ouchdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Dead

    I cried when my father cut down the crab apple tree outside the house I grew up in.
    I never told anyone.
    I counted the rings in it's white and bleeding limb.
    They numbered the exact years of my life.
    It smelled sweet, of sap and wood.
    I cried because I miss you so much.

    ...Created 2007-07-22 15:25:02

    dotsJournal: I miss you.dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: memories.


    He said
    I have seen the others
    and I have discovered
    that this fight is not worth fighting
    and I've seen their mothers
    and I will no other
    to follow me where I'm going
    So,
    take a shower and shine your shoes
    you got no time to lose
    you are young men you must be living
    take a shower and shine your shoes
    you got no time to lose
    you are young men you must be living


    go now you are forgiven

    ...Created 2007-07-22 01:51:19

    dotsJournal: I'm in lovedots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Worn awe

    With Ross Gay.








    Man Tries to Commit Suicide With a Crossbow



    And fails. First, imagine the weapon
    pointing heavenward beneath his chin. After the triggerís
    quick tick, the following: what, for said
    undead, must have sounded like a rocketís stratospheric crash,
    which is to say the arrow just
    crested the crown (i it got stuck). At which point, the head
    now a kebob, said undead had
    the wherewithal to unscrew the skewer
    from the little lodged missile and pull it out. To walk
    to the emergency room.

    I love to think
    grace takes strange shapes: the arrow
    balm to the howl of neurons.
    To think of that walk beneath the velvet night.
    Stay with me. Donít think
    headache. Think
    instead: the starsí ancient light warming
    his just budding horn.

    ...Created 2007-06-22 15:40:53

    dotsJournal: chaotic gardensdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Awe

    Ode to chaotic gardens

    When it's warm, we'll be naked all the time.
    I can stitch you a robe out of enemy ships, and bake pastry bikinis. tanlines shaped like jelly donuts.
    Oh, but thats a little cocky. I cant begin to imagine how you would go about making a jelly donut. Whipped cream. Then he hits me.
    Haha, remember?
    Maybe not. But thats fine. Back to summer.
    The fort I started last year, made of sticks and stones and hurtful words. I could stand upright in the center, I remember. Its by the stream that I imagine talks like an obese man constantly. We could make ordinary donuts, and spread jam on them, feed them to the stream. We'd have to pretend to drop them first though. Otherwise we'd be wasting food.
    Maybe the stream should go on a diet.
    Would it still burble? Burble is a chubby sound. Would it trickle instead? Trickle sounds a little pathetic, in a way.
    Like it's hungry.
    We could sleep naked in the fort, by the obese man rambling over little stones. There are a few tiny muddy newts living in his hair, which reflects a little sunlight, throwing it back to the maple trees. Undersides of leaves, do they take in sunlight too? Does the reflection have less vitavoobs?
    I planted onions around the fort last year. I strode shirtless with a curtain round my waist, dragging a broken straw basket behind me. The basket was kind of like the straw chair I sat in at the keg party, in my last summer dream. I filled the chair basket with ripped up wild onions, their stems brown and little seeds dangling, rolling in the bottom of my slung arm, dusty straw and all.
    I tossed these rolling seeds around the dappled sunlight clearing like nothing, I remember the careless abandon, then how I brought the onions themselves to the cage house, cooked them with canned green beans and fresh tomatoes. Lets have one of the horses trip over it's knickers, and add it to supper. Soft voluptous wet noodles, elbow pasta, the best shape of them all. Spirals too.
    Sometimes if I suck air through the elbows, they whistle.
    I remember we all ate the dinner, it wasn't special. Except for when my sister found a hoof in her bowl.
    But I woke up at dawn panting from a nightmare, oh I knew then the onions were all wrong, I hadn't planted them right, they were so CHAOTIC!
    I dashed out through the woods, waking the dew with my bare feet, and cracked dizzy unwashed and groggily I scooped the dirt of the clearing into 8 neat rows.-pinball's dreams.

    ...Created 2007-05-24 21:22:24

    dotsJournal: RapLovedots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual


    Poetry is the language of imagination
    Poetry is a form of positive creation
    Difficult, isn't it the point? Ya missin it
    Rockin's kinda new to me cause my true love is poetry
    I don't know what you thought hops but chief I've got tall props see
    This be thee rebuttal version
    To mister academic who does not believe that my poems would
    could should have muscles and bodies like this one
    I want my poem to be brazen and long legged
    and squash mud under a hard yellow heals wicked gravity
    I wish to leave this lab of brains swishing in jars
    and write poems that shatter glass with undeniable bodies
    I want to be a word that wants to be a sweating brick
    so drink that through your pointed teeth and critique it
    I want to be the strophe that strokes the ear in salty heaves
    a spine that bends and works like the dance you shut the door to be
    Listen to me, with your hips
    Clutch this line in the fleshy grip of bold thighs
    Eat through your ears and drink through your pores
    and if you see me splashed across a page
    Know that a leaf is a tongue that you wear to make love
    to a voice not your own, eat this poem
    Floss with the barbed length of a simile
    and scrape your tongue across the living verses
    bristling skin my I is just my I I promise
    I believe in closure but not in hospital corners
    the way first principles are real but untraceable see
    God is meaning, means becoming, means I knock before I come in
    Means I wriggle through the riddle of the flesh to out sweat it
    Means I wear my impertinence upon my fluttering lip
    My refusal to bow out to some abstract curtain
    and exist backstage by the sandbags and pulleys
    Hell fucking no! I exist to be seen
    to see and be seen, to push my I to the thou
    Because the premise of my rhythm is the un-apologetic
    emphatic insistence of the declarative sentence
    That's right bad boy, I am I is I be, fuck you.
    I can speak about myself and rhyme in couplets if I want to
    I am I is I be I do I self I delf I solo I dolo is is is is I I I
    Am my mother's talk stories from beginning to end.
    Listen to this poem with your hips..

    Yes it's Denizen an exhalation of breath
    and these Typicaaal Cats will make the session start fresh
    Yes it's I grip tight the lemon scented mic device
    these Typicaaal Cats will make the session start right
    See I was born with two tongues but no green card
    my skin marked by the immigration narratives of my people drifting a-part
    Of the two worlds I reside in the high yellow phantasm, of an undiscovered future
    I am to breach the chasm between my mother's memory and my hazy prison I so knew
    Languages off the scraps of my hand-me-down clothes
    I grip with ten toes the type or types are putting fact in funk
    deliver colder than statistics, bubble hot like a Cali trunk
    I dwell in the fertile valley between ghosts and history
    subvert the dogma lefty-loosy righty-tighty every time I speak
    Conjunction junction what's ya function my assumption
    that the fearful face of my future would fall and then my punching is in question
    Ghosts grip my chest and I can't breathe
    panic brings my chinky eyes wide and then I can't read
    Roll and I tumble and I cry the whole night long
    roll and I tumble and I cry the whole night long
    But my creator calls the human out the thinnest of the vapors
    I tease the story out the blankness of the paper
    I can weave a family out the scarlet of a sin
    and write the world in which my seed will be at ease inside his own skin
    See Miss Liberty stagger with evictions falling out
    I tap with two tongues against the inside of my mouth
    Had a date with assimilation, but I stood her ass up
    and made love to the multi-color features brimming in my cup
    Because the end comes quick, ego says quit
    I say work is love let my body be a brick
    Because the end comes quick and ego says quit
    I say work is love let my body be a brick

    Yes it's Denizen an exhalation of breath
    and these Typicaaal Cats we make the session start fresh
    Yes it's I grip tight the lemon scented mic device
    Typicaaal Cats will make the session start right (see uh uh)



    -Typical Cats, What You Thought Hops

    ...Created 2007-05-20 18:13:02

    dotsJournal: Its official...dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: HeyJude

    If I could curl up and hide beneath the lining of my guitar case, I would let that pretty boy I smoked weed with once carry it around. And when it got dark and he refused to come home, I'd crawl out and we'd sing good music.

    ...Created 2007-05-16 16:35:13

    dotsJournal: Sum of My Lifedots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    Damn those teenagers with their fantasies, oh how they lack the maturity to think above the careening acts of sexual deviance.

    ...Created 2007-05-13 20:30:41

    dotsJournal: Carefuldots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual


    G e t m e o u t t a t h e r a i n, y o u g e t
    m e o u t o f m y c l o t h e s.

    H o p e I d o n ' t m a k e a s o u n d, y o u
    h o p e t h a t n o b o d y k n o w s.


    -Some band I don't know.

    ...Created 2007-05-13 17:52:15

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

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    January 10 07
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