i thought that it must look something like
a rorschach test, with dots here and there,
a modern abstract fraught with hidden meaning
and cliche. he was swiss and they do everything
in grey. the asymmetrical beauty of keys is that
they have a match somewhere in the world and
they will know because it fits. it just feels right.
she wore her name proudly like it was a royal
title, a tiara or divine righteousness. hers was
the ideal swan song, the last of its kind, as she
sank down into the treacherous womb of the ocean.
her wooden limbs sighed, blanched as the cold
fingers wormed their way around her heart and
squeezed. dying vienna, burnt and bruised and torn,
breathed her last drowning wish, etched it into
aquamarine. she drowned, and her glory with her.
i thought that maybe we find things beautiful because
they have escaped our comprehension.
Report a Policy Violation
the news article as well as check out the individual pieces. We understand that each day you may not be able to check out each and every one of the pieces, everyone has their own things going on. We just ask that you make an attempt to help support the growing Literature community.
Follow us on Twitter
Become a fan on Facebook
Comments
--
"You know, you and I are like crystal. Most people are just glass. The world sings a note to them and they can't feel it. But we hum. But you have to be careful. You have to know when to stop humming, because crystal will shatter."
-Brian Hall
they have escaped our comprehension."
they escape our comprehension but are also almost within reach. it's a paradox. we cling to them because there's a frustration, a desire that needs to be met and is almost, *almost* being overcome...
a bit like your poems. i feel almost enlightened enough to make sense of things for myself, and some parts resonate very clearly, but others are completely beyond my grasp! and it all fits perfectly to make this untouchable image, this hypertext that simultaneously fulfills one sense of need, and invokes another.
this is one of my favourite things you've written. and that's saying a lot
--
let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
(i'd only explain it to you if you wanted me to. but it'd be difficult.)
there are things that make sense only inside my head. seeing them written out and enumerated so permanently is a little odd.
(but those things have always, inexplicably, made perfect sense to me. like the connections in this poem.)
--
let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
awesome
--
let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
they have escaped our comprehension."
I love that. I love this. =]
--
----------------------------
As if you could kill time without injuring eternity - Thoreau
Fare thee well, little broken heart...
Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.
--
let's play a game called you pretend i am an actual poet
"i thought that it must look something like
a rorschach test, with dots here and there,
a modern abstract fraught with hidden meaning
and cliche."
--
"I just had five hot dogs."
"Five hot dogs?"
"FIVE HOT DOGS!!!"
Previous Page123Next Page