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    poetry


    dotsJournal: writers blockdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Sleepy

    evening falls dark purple over the city, the stars take stage, as
    it slips passed the skyscrapers, moon muses beyond the shifting clouds, and

    the poet stalks his prey. the elusive beast shut up in stark white,
    a jungle of paper tethered to thin metal coils; her legs spread open before him.

    ...Created 2011-06-11 23:54:03

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    ...Created 2011-06-06 14:22:37

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    <!-- Start: TraceMyIP.org Code //-->
    <script type="text/javascript" src="http://s2.tracemyip.org/tracker/lgUrl.php?stlVar2=1211&amp;rgtype=4684NR-IPIB&amp;pidnVar2=22580&amp;prtVar2=10&amp;scvVar2=12"></script><noscript><a href="http://www.tracemyip.org/tools/link-click-tracker-ad-clicks-counter-ip-blocker/" target="_blank"><img src="http://s2.tracemyip.org/tracker/1211/4684NR-IPIB/22580/10/12/ans/" alt="url click tracking" border="0"></a></noscript>
    <!-- End: TraceMyIP.org Code //-->

    ...Created 2011-06-06 14:22:16

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Sigh...

    my mind is a mausoleum, my heart an ossuary, my body a rosy Sepulchre-

    ...Created 2011-06-03 18:12:08

    dotsJournal: study in love dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Dead Sexy


    July
    BY KAZIM ALI
    We lay down in the graveyard, hinged there.


    Emerald moss growing thickly in the chiseled letters.


    You're explaining how trees actually breathe.


    Green in the names and trees went up to join gray in the sky.


    Then the gray-green sky came down in breaths to my lips and sipped me.


    A un Desconocido
    BY LORNA DEE CERVANTES
    I was looking for your hair,
    black as old lava on an island
    of white coral. I dreamed it
    deserted you and came for me,
    wrapped me in its funeral ribbons
    and tied me a bow of salt.

    Here's where I put my demise:
    desiring fire in a web of tide,
    marrying the smell of wet ashes
    to the sweet desert of your slate.
    My intelligent mammal, male
    of my species, twin sun to a world
    not of my making, you reduce me
    to the syrup of the moon, you boil
    my bones in the absence of hands.

    Where is your skin, parting me?
    Where is the cowlick under your kiss
    teasing into purple valleys? Where
    are your wings, the imaginary tail
    and its exercise? Where would I breed
    you? In the neck of my secret heart
    where you'll go to the warmth of me
    biting into that bread where crumbs crack
    and scatter and feed us our souls;

    if only you were a stone I could
    throw, if only I could have you.

    SONETO XX by Neruda

    My ugly love, you are an unkempt chestnut
    My beautiful love, you are beautiful like wind
    My ugly love, your mouth is as big as two mouths
    My beautiful one, your kisses are fresh like watermelons

    My ugly one, where do you hide your breasts?
    They are tiny like two scoops of wheat
    I would rather like to see two moons on your chest:
    Two huge towers of your pride

    My ugly one, even the sea does not have toenails like yours
    My beautiful one, flower by flower, start by star, wave by wave
    Love, I know your body's each cranny and nook

    My ugly one, I love you for your waist of gold
    Beautiful one, for the wrinkle on your forehead
    Love, I love you for your clearness, darkness.

    Hymn from a Watermelon Pavilion
    BY WALLACE STEVENS
    You dweller in the dark cabin,
    To whom the watermelon is always purple,
    Whose garden is wind and moon,

    Of the two dreams, night and day,
    What lover, what dreamer, would choose
    The one obscured by sleep?

    Here is the plantain by your door
    And the best cock of red feather
    That crew before the clocks.

    A feme may come, leaf-green,
    Whose coming may give revel
    Beyond revelries of sleep,

    Yes, and the blackbird spread its tail,
    So that the sun may speckle,
    While it creaks hail.

    You dweller in the dark cabin,
    Rise, since rising will not waken,
    And hail, cry hail, cry hail.

    The Good-Morrow
    BY JOHN DONNE

    I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
    Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
    But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
    Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den?
    'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
    If ever any beauty I did see,
    Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

    And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
    Which watch not one another out of fear;
    For love, all love of other sights controls,
    And makes one little room an everywhere.
    Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
    Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
    Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.

    My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
    And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
    Where can we find two better hemispheres,
    Without sharp north, without declining west?
    Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;
    If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
    Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

    Sunflower
    BY ANDRÉ BRETON
    TRANSLATED BY MARK POLIZZOTTI

    The traveler who crossed Les Halles at summer's end
    Walked on tiptoe
    Despair rolled its great handsome lilies across the sky
    And in her handbag was my dream that flask of salts
    That only God's godmother had breathed
    Torpors unfurled like mist
    At the Chien qui Fume
    Where pro and con had just entered
    They could hardly see the young woman and then only at an angle
    Was I dealing with the ambassadress of saltpeter
    Or with the white curve on black background we call thought
    The Innocents' Ball was in full swing
    The Chinese lanterns slowly caught fire in chestnut trees
    The shadowless lady knelt on the Pont-au-Change
    On Rue Gît-le-Coeur the stamps had changed
    The night's promises had been kept at last
    The carrier pigeons and emergency kisses
    Merged with the beautiful stranger's breasts
    Jutting beneath the crepe of perfect meanings
    A farm prospered in the heart of Paris
    And its windows looked out on the Milky Way
    But no one lived there yet because of the guests
    Guests who are known to be more faithful than ghosts
    Some like that woman appear to be swimming
    And a bit of their substance becomes part of love
    She internalizes them
    I am the plaything of no sensory power
    And yet the cricket who sang in hair of ash
    One evening near the statue of Etienne Marcel
    Threw me a knowing glance
    Andre Breton it said pass

    ...Created 2011-05-28 13:32:11

    dotsJournal: study in love dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Dead Sexy

    July
    BY KAZIM ALI
    We lay down in the graveyard, hinged there.


    Emerald moss growing thickly in the chiseled letters.


    You’re explaining how trees actually breathe.


    Green in the names and trees went up to join gray in the sky.


    Then the gray-green sky came down in breaths to my lips and sipped me.


    A un Desconocido
    BY LORNA DEE CERVANTES
    I was looking for your hair,
    black as old lava on an island
    of white coral. I dreamed it
    deserted you and came for me,
    wrapped me in its funeral ribbons
    and tied me a bow of salt.

    Here’s where I put my demise:
    desiring fire in a web of tide,
    marrying the smell of wet ashes
    to the sweet desert of your slate.
    My intelligent mammal, male
    of my species, twin sun to a world
    not of my making, you reduce me
    to the syrup of the moon, you boil
    my bones in the absence of hands.

    Where is your skin, parting me?
    Where is the cowlick under your kiss
    teasing into purple valleys? Where
    are your wings, the imaginary tail
    and its exercise? Where would I breed
    you? In the neck of my secret heart
    where you’ll go to the warmth of me
    biting into that bread where crumbs crack
    and scatter and feed us our souls;

    if only you were a stone I could
    throw, if only I could have you.

    SONETO XX by Neruda

    My ugly love, you are an unkempt chestnut
    My beautiful love, you are beautiful like wind
    My ugly love, your mouth is as big as two mouths
    My beautiful one, your kisses are fresh like watermelons

    My ugly one, where do you hide your breasts?
    They are tiny like two scoops of wheat
    I would rather like to see two moons on your chest:
    Two huge towers of your pride

    My ugly one, even the sea does not have toenails like yours
    My beautiful one, flower by flower, start by star, wave by wave
    Love, I know your body's each cranny and nook

    My ugly one, I love you for your waist of gold
    Beautiful one, for the wrinkle on your forehead
    Love, I love you for your clearness, darkness.

    Hymn from a Watermelon Pavilion
    BY WALLACE STEVENS
    You dweller in the dark cabin,
    To whom the watermelon is always purple,
    Whose garden is wind and moon,

    Of the two dreams, night and day,
    What lover, what dreamer, would choose
    The one obscured by sleep?

    Here is the plantain by your door
    And the best cock of red feather
    That crew before the clocks.

    A feme may come, leaf-green,
    Whose coming may give revel
    Beyond revelries of sleep,

    Yes, and the blackbird spread its tail,
    So that the sun may speckle,
    While it creaks hail.

    You dweller in the dark cabin,
    Rise, since rising will not waken,
    And hail, cry hail, cry hail.

    The Good-Morrow
    BY JOHN DONNE

    I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I
    Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then?
    But sucked on country pleasures, childishly?
    Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers’ den?
    ’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be.
    If ever any beauty I did see,
    Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.

    And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
    Which watch not one another out of fear;
    For love, all love of other sights controls,
    And makes one little room an everywhere.
    Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
    Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
    Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.

    My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
    And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
    Where can we find two better hemispheres,
    Without sharp north, without declining west?
    Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;
    If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
    Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

    Sunflower
    BY ANDRÉ BRETON
    TRANSLATED BY MARK POLIZZOTTI

    The traveler who crossed Les Halles at summer’s end
    Walked on tiptoe
    Despair rolled its great handsome lilies across the sky
    And in her handbag was my dream that flask of salts
    That only God’s godmother had breathed
    Torpors unfurled like mist
    At the Chien qui Fume
    Where pro and con had just entered
    They could hardly see the young woman and then only at an angle
    Was I dealing with the ambassadress of saltpeter
    Or with the white curve on black background we call thought
    The Innocents’ Ball was in full swing
    The Chinese lanterns slowly caught fire in chestnut trees
    The shadowless lady knelt on the Pont-au-Change
    On Rue Gît-le-Coeur the stamps had changed
    The night’s promises had been kept at last
    The carrier pigeons and emergency kisses
    Merged with the beautiful stranger’s breasts
    Jutting beneath the crepe of perfect meanings
    A farm prospered in the heart of Paris
    And its windows looked out on the Milky Way
    But no one lived there yet because of the guests
    Guests who are known to be more faithful than ghosts
    Some like that woman appear to be swimming
    And a bit of their substance becomes part of love
    She internalizes them
    I am the plaything of no sensory power
    And yet the cricket who sang in hair of ash
    One evening near the statue of Etienne Marcel
    Threw me a knowing glance
    Andre Breton it said pass

    ...Created 2011-05-28 12:43:12

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    July
    BY KAZIM ALI
    We lay down in the graveyard, hinged there.


    Emerald moss growing thickly in the chiseled letters.


    You’re explaining how trees actually breathe.


    Green in the names and trees went up to join gray in the sky.


    Then the gray-green sky came down in breaths to my lips and sipped me.

    ...Created 2011-05-28 12:29:41

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: The Usual

    &feature=related

    ...Created 2011-05-27 23:37:23

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Thinking...

    ...Created 2011-05-27 23:06:09

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: hungry

    ...Created 2011-05-25 08:40:40

    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.

    Wish written by Daniel Barlow
    Giving written by jjd
    It's Night Now written by RisingSon
    What happens written by Wolfwatching
    Treasure Chest written by PieceOfCake
    Fasade written by jackz
    written by Daniel Barlow
    102.3 written by rev.jpfadeproof
    Sunset written by rev.jpfadeproof
    Bond written by saartha
    cleverly shunned written by CrypticBard
    4th of July written by layDsayD
    Neither Here nor There written by layDsayD
    True Death written by layDsayD
    Red Barn written by rev.jpfadeproof
    World I No Longer Want written by ForgottenGraves
    Still Fighting See? written by ForgottenGraves
    The Severed Head written by HisNameIsNoMore
    untitled written by Chelebel
    Primitive Lapse written by Crestfallenman
    Cosmic Dreams written by Chelebel
    I will call out your name written by RisingSon
    Brigit written by endlessgame23
    Linger written by saartha
    PEARL (Exclusive Poem) 10th Anniversary... written by Cordell
    Pain, an elixir. written by Ramneet
    Summer written by layDsayD
    Break Up written by WriteSomething
    Push written by JanePlane
    Once Again written by krs3332003

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