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Skin
My backbone is a set of tinker toys,
vertebrates disconnect like wooden wheels.
The holes in my pupils let in light
and give off a light you can touch.
My skin is stretched silly putty
and I want to stretch myself over the light bulb,
so that I won't see the sewer grates break the street.
You don't have to tell me abou the water
running under my sandals
because I can hear it like frozen waves.
I once dowsed for water, my rods crossed,
but I couldn't see any when you said I would.
Why is life so liquid?
Why can't life be a gas?
I want to be vaporized by the sun
climb the last judment to 45 feet high
reach for my portait of draped skin
until my spine stretches too far and breaks.
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Comment by: PANDORA - 2006-07-14 17:32
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| This was very well written. Each word is placed to bring out great emotion, and you did so with grace. I know you did not mean this, but when you wrote "why can't life be a gas"-it reminded me a the saying, "life is a gas"-meaning life is funny. Totally off subject, but brought back a funny memory, so thank you.** |
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Comment by: suleem - 2006-06-23 08:04
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| You have made my day. I was looking to feel, grasp a feeling and you helped me do this. Fantastic write. This is what I call reaching core energy |
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| I liked it, the best part for me was the way it ended, "until my spine stretches too far and breaks". Quality stuff. |
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| Amazing 2nd stanza. "I once dowsed for water, my rods crossed, / but I couldn't see any when you said I would" - also excellent lines. Intrigued by the spinal imagery [possibly because my own back is well & truly buggered.] Enjoyed this poem a lot, so thanks. |
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