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    dots Submission Name: osteosarchaematosplanchnochondroneuromuelousdots

    Author: blackbird
    ASL Info:    31/male/reykjavik iceland
    Elite Ratio:    2.35 - 194/328/300
    Words: 133
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 870
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 920


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    itís strange,
    the swimming
    & this cataglottism
    that seems to show each moment
    cast with light
    the way that the summer formed,
    like a split plum,
    when i was young.

    all the moments of the city
    wrap into the sidewalk,
    pettifogging like the rest of us
    poor victims of self doubt
    with our slim lips
    to build a fire into.

    honeyfuggle is lost on the jossers.
    whereas, everyday
    iím circused into this routine
    of living
    with these vestments made of skin.
    i wear my ruth
    with rueful wit
    & a sly tongue
    to tie my eyelids back.

    iím cursed
    with a xenoglossy of love
    while my own heart
    is an unspoken silence.
    iím surrounded by hyloist
    in the pallescence of it all.
    & where do all the birds go?

    Submitted on 2008-04-01 05:48:46     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I really enjoyed how you enclaved so many wild words within your piece, taming them to your purpose like a parasynthetic parade of dismal abominations describing your perception. (Is that sentence too long? Hehehe..) I will admit that I had to look these words up, yes of and I are at the top of that list of words I looked up, but who wouldn't, wanting to learn. There was one that I found a little out of place: cataglottism - which I initially guessed meant the separation or deviation of dialects, later found out mean french kissing. Who cares though, throw the blame on the old lyricist, who's passion is lost to pataphysics like a toddler's imagination is to a plastic toy-truck. I really liked the second stanza because it presented quite a playful idea: moments doubting theirself. Zeno of Elea, back who knows when instigated this paradox basically demonstrating that the present (both as a verbal tense, and a temporal abstraction) was an impossibility. I would indeed doubt myself if I didn't exist. I was also semi hoping to see something like "marrowing" in this piece because of the title. You dissect contemporary urban life with an aspersive tone, satirical I suppose while keeping to the title, adding a bodily quality - tongue, lips, skin, eyelids, heart. You really pick up the criticality towards the end, with your hyloism, as if the world was so materialistic, capitalistic, feigning some kind of ghastly depth when really they're as shallow as a thin-layered pallidity of skin. The last line read to me as a signature, the cry of individuality from a cell within the behemoth - the question that holds depth in such nebulousness.

    See ya 'round.
    | Posted on 2008-06-11 00:00:00 | by Outlaw | [ Reply to This ]
      ahhhh...that line 'circused into this routine'

    so vonneguttian it made me blink and quite distracted me from the rest of the poem.

    i like the lurching catatonic drive of this one, a sputtering lawnmower motor of a work.

    polysyllabic lyricism!

    oh where has my dictionary got to?
    | Posted on 2008-06-05 00:00:00 | by ruejacobs | [ Reply to This ]
      it reminds me of things i knew as a child but have long forgotten. i must say that i thought it was artfully crafted.
    | Posted on 2008-05-06 00:00:00 | by in shadow | [ Reply to This ]
      this ones good... i will admit that there was a couple of words i havent used/heard myself before, but by the way you used them it hepled met better understand this. i live in the city myself, so i get what this MIGHT be saying, maybe that everyone is just so caught up in that time that place they are almost in a constant cycle, without so much as stoppin to think. well thats what i get out of it, cause again, i live in Chicago

    | Posted on 2008-04-01 00:00:00 | by iaida | [ Reply to This ]

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