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two discolorations

black moan
dead wine
the top spins in only one direction
I am a dog staring at the door
a scribble
time is a blurred ghost
cotton was lost along the trails
her eyes have no seeds
or indentations of pithy
just long fever transmissions
her arms are like
moving colorless veins on a maple leaf
I am her golden shimmer
born from mind caverns
that emanate only
cracked wood and blank flags

26 Mar 09

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you write poems of a high quality. they should be given more attention by this strange lot, or maybe just by me. or neither. or none.

i like the sensation of being "insensible"- of communicating things to mind which in relation to said mind are, as mind fixed in 'the real', quite confusing...almost obscure but well worth trying to unravel. such is the code of life. such is the bullshit i may, indeed, espouse.
 — DeformedLion

ohh ghostly and vague .. cold and blank in places..just how i like it :)

lines 9 and 11 stand out for me, and run through properly...

a good read..
 — Gynoid

 — DeformedLion

kind of over-written, like you were looking too hard at the audience and not enough at the inner-vision that structures this piece. for instance, you've got that 'only' in line 4 obliterating the moan/bones/top harmony. you could write this more direct, like you were compelled by the words and not by the necessity of writing a poem for posting.
 — unknown

interesting image list and descriptive
ha at golden i thought it might say retriever
i think it would read better to squeeze 12 and 13 getting rid of like and moving moving from the start of 13 to the end of 12
the abrupt sounds of 17 were a fitting finish the line sounded of finality
 — chuckle_s

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