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The Alien

The beauty of purpose shapes all things
By its history defined and in this
Divinity – so fragile
Among this foreign people I am
Mightily human, bereft of certainty
Surrounded by unfamiliar ways
I can feel all my edges crumble away
My shaky truce with the universe
Crowns me with its indifference
In the cold wind and emptiness of
Faces all the emptiness of time
Which is only myriad possibility
Really life is always this floating
I look to the sky and give thanks

3 May 08

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the myth of you being there, where i was just part of the sidewalk and wondering about where to go to eat... the place is older than me, and you've picked up on that and you've talked it up. maybe if this was "lost in cleveland" i'd see it your way.
 — joey

Marseilles in English... with a final "s"...

i first enjoyed lines 9-10 then reread, then enjoyed the rest... But is the title well situated .... is Marseilles really the core of your poem or even the hook ? i don't think the title lies  in the mentioning of the southern seaside French city; the title of your poem may be otherwise...

see you
 — greenmantle

Thanks for your comments Joey & Greenmantle. You are probably right about title Greenmantle, is this any better?  Just happened to be there but it could have been anywhere.
 — unknown

: )
 — fractalcore

 — unknown