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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: XV.dots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Outlaw
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 510/413/194
    Words: 273
    Class/Type: Poetry/Love
    Total Views: 864
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1754



    Description:
       Carrousel 2.0
    Pardon my french.


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

    dotsXV.dots
    -------------------------------------------


    The familiarity of her greeting is haunting
    in how new it is to my ears, and how well
    it penetrates into my desires, and how much
    I decry the want to just get lost in it. That
    familiarity.

    The look of her eyes is no more than choreography
    a clean-shaven look of trust and want
    a wanton dare to fuck on the kitchen table
    carrying the mask of coquettish coyness
    and I mean fuck

    It's silly to think that all of these feelings
    come from the moving of her lips, the plucking
    of her vibrant vocal chords, and the natural
    dilution of her eye colour. The Hart of my crane,
    the heart towards which mine cranes.

    I'd love to runaway with her mind, away from her
    life to a restaurant where the menu
    has her life a la carte for twenty-two hours
    and a few shared smiles beneath starlit horizons
    of solitude and togetherness.

    She is a stranger to which I want to devote
    the better part of my afternoons, and after whose
    existence my ideas will be nothing more than strangers
    on shelves, on pages, inside of the ink bearing
    their meaning of strangeness.

    A strangeness which I'd invite into my life
    if only for the promise that it will revolt and re-
    frame my mind for the crimes of impassioned
    blindness, of convicting alienation and embrace.

    a slight exchange with no more bearing than passing
    in her life, a slight change with no less bearing than
    consuming my mind - at least for the lonesome whiles
    before I forget, before I am forgotten.




    Submitted on 2011-05-09 14:40:48     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I truly appreciate the eloquence with which you stated this and yet left me wondering whether it was truly a romantic interlude or just a chance happenstance that occurred in passing. I love how your incriminated by your passion into remission and then fear of being forgotten. You carried that thought to a seemingly inevitable end very well. Conversely I doubt you'll soon be forgetting that impassioned fantasy whether unrequited or not.

    Bruce
    | Posted on 2014-06-13 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]
      i have felt this exact same thing. (i've never learned to give a Fuck. it came naturally untill i figured out it too pointless. it's been years since i have.)can't help but to fav this. [of course the picture doesn't apply in my case.]
    | Posted on 2014-06-10 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ]
      why the hell didn't this get more comments?

    puzzling.

    jacob
    | Posted on 2011-05-29 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]
      okay this percolates....

    the first stanza is the chance meeting...the look at each other, the hello...strangers passing..

    the second is wild fantasy...i really like the reference to Hart Crane-- "the Hart of my crane, the heart towards which mine cranes"

    i like the idea of running away with her mind...and the next stanza...it's like all in a fleeting moment the fantasy turns into a relationship...the relationship runs the course of meeting, passionate embrace, consumed by each other...and then moving on...and eventually both sides forgetting the moment...

    imagination is so random where and when it will occur...and the imagined is often better than the real thing...

    cool poem, Outlaw!
    | Posted on 2011-05-09 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]


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