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Amaranths, Hastily wrapped in store-bought plastic, tenderly beribboned with my only blue silk tie – Amaranths and heavy meanings I leave conspicuously on your windowsill; nothing given to chance and rueful mistakes. Amaranths, all that I would have you know, Hoping you’ll remember … Please, please say you remember … ... the chrysanthemum – Growing unchecked, covert in your garden To finally blanket the expensive designer rock at thirty dollars per pound – with profound declarations you say the chrysanthemum you would not cut for the wide world. For the wide words each blossom screams Is a wide word you want to scream to me, Even on Wednesdays when I am impossible to please. So please, please remember when I leave Amaranths on the green sill beside the red door Taking 27 lungfuls to breathe traversing the 32 steps up from the street … 64 all together that I would climb again And again Just to have you remember … What an unused place setting never says, What sweet release you hold but no longer bestow, What a coward’s gift cannot contain, What hollow sleepless eyes do not show … And when one day you return from the wide world When all your adventures without me are done and through When you spy the Amaranths, Delicate and dear, Tiny and tremulous in the breeze, Each blossom screaming all that I’ve ever wanted to scream at you … Please, please, remember how I have loved you: your memory wrapped in my love my fate tied up with your love Loving where others have only misunderstood Loving when love seemed unsuited to the terrain Loving how you have dreamed of being loved Amaranths – everlasting. In love with you I remain. |
it seems to me that what goes down quickly will often capture the essential essence of what you are trying to say and, if you are fortunate to be as eloquent as someone like blueorchids then i suppose the result is for the main part entirely satisfactory. a sort of benign tourette's or an outbreak of literary jackson pollocks... this then though is another example of what i think you do so well: a sort of breathless wistfulnes. the immediacy of your jottings rather underpins that idea and this alone is good enough reason to read this over. i know that you can be an awful lot more thoughtful and can do chin-stroking with the best of us. but i like this botanical gut-spilling too. it mirrors how lots of us have felt at some time in our lives: that aching need to hold and be told. always a pleasure; never a chore... take it easy g, k | Posted on 2009-07-08 00:00:00 | by Awkward | [ Reply to This ] | Very skillfully put together. Your description and powers of expression are first rate. | Frank. | Posted on 2009-07-02 00:00:00 | by Frank Maguire | [ Reply to This ] | the lack of responses to this disappoints me. | the truth exhibited in this is purely spoken and passionate. wild. floating. yet intense. this made me shiver. 27, 32, 64... mysterious numbers. but with stories behind them, i'm sure... this is tremulous, as you say... i love the sound and meaning of that word. | Posted on 2009-07-01 00:00:00 | by meoww | [ Reply to This ] | |