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    dots Submission Name: the great empiredots

    Author: blackbird
    ASL Info:    31/male/reykjavik iceland
    Elite Ratio:    2.35 - 194/328/300
    Words: 266
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 481
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1998


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    dotsthe great empiredots

    we soup our bones
    into a cold roux;
    curry leaves, chiles,
    turmeric, cumin, nutmeg
    & cinnamon..
    where you begin
    & we end
    we do not know.
    we can close our eyes
    & taste you even now.

    harnessed to a mirror
    out of nowhere,
    out of somewhere
    other than what we've known,
    i've made temples,
    for the purpose of worshiping,
    out of sand.
    the sea can take them away,
    one by one,
    while i watch
    on some infinite flat beach
    inside my head.

    & their scent
    catches us again,
    we can almost place it,
    almost place us amongst them;
    paprika, white peppercorn,
    fennel, caraway
    & star anise..
    was that coriander?

    i remember the scene,
    vivid greens splashed beneath
    that impossible orange chinese sunrise.
    the people poured
    out of the forest
    from thatched huts,
    caves, lean-tos
    & hammocks,
    from the trees themselves,
    the brush & the ditches.
    they came from everywhere,
    hungry not for food
    but for our knowledge,
    for our spices.
    "was there any word
    from the great empire?
    let us taste it..."

    but we moved on
    & learned that our dreams
    could become ghosts
    within those feverish landscapes.
    the mountains to the west
    called to us.
    that was where we would find them.
    from our side-packs
    we pulled the flavors
    that would buy our way;
    mustard seeds,
    bay leaves, ginger,
    mace, cardamom..
    take them all,
    we have to find the masters
    beyond the woods.
    & what we've known of madness,
    we'll place upon our tongues
    like hungry beggers
    while we learn...

    Submitted on 2009-01-05 05:10:04     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      "i've made temples,
    for the purpose of worshiping,
    out of sand.
    the sea can take them away,
    one by one,
    while i watch
    on some infinite flat beach
    inside my head."

    see here, you're words are well worth exploring, they stretch me but I hung in there, for the wild adventure I'll probably only appreciate fully later.

    Spices taken, by all those flavors of people emerging from caves and lean-tos, the irony is perfect.

    spices used to buy your way.

    when someone works within symbolism like this and wrings all the flavor from the conceit then for me this is good poetry, it is new eyes and old scenery, in the way that the land was always there.

    enjambment, internal rhyme.

    well worth the read and the time it takes to acknowledge when someone is doing things well.
    | Posted on 2009-04-12 00:00:00 | by Daniel Barlow | [ Reply to This ]

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