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Literature Text
September is a sultry tangle
of curly hair and corduroy jackets stretched
over broad shoulders that I've been leaning on,
metaphorically.
He won't press for answers
and I won't trouble him with my problems.
So he complains about the weather –
he's never gotten used to these sticky, southern delta summers –
while I hold the door
and press the call button.
The half-lit elevator drops us off above Dante's first layer.
I feel sorry for anyone beneath,
but I've indulgences to buy
and my own hell to return to.
But there's a light in my pocket –
abandon not all hope,
and
smile.
of curly hair and corduroy jackets stretched
over broad shoulders that I've been leaning on,
metaphorically.
He won't press for answers
and I won't trouble him with my problems.
So he complains about the weather –
he's never gotten used to these sticky, southern delta summers –
while I hold the door
and press the call button.
The half-lit elevator drops us off above Dante's first layer.
I feel sorry for anyone beneath,
but I've indulgences to buy
and my own hell to return to.
But there's a light in my pocket –
abandon not all hope,
and
smile.
Literature
remuneration
there were dreams of abasement, tearing up at the thought of
the noxious corners of your eyes. i saw them at a glance and fell
headfirst in the Styx, catching billowing waves of uncertainty and
heartache. they crashed with a decade-begrudged mind that was far
from healing -- far from me.
and though the fall was abrasive and the
waves, their own harangue, their heartache
and toxins faded & found graphite talismans
engraved in a red wrist warmer.
the ground that my blood decorated, with a history of broken bone
marrows now showed how unnecessary a transplant w
Literature
Mizpah
The crying wind
brings a
deluge:
lost
and blurred at
the edges,
you
become
a
whisper.
Literature
once.
the world was wider, once: strewn bright
and willing to a fingertip's beckoning, riddled
with roads that spilled in breathless wanders
to otherlands of reverie. i remember
the promise i made a wild changeling child
before i bade her hush and say goodnight --
i've not woken her since: she sleeps and i steal
her spun-glass dreams for my garden
of wilt, ever longing to hold
the ghost-dance that spins by their dying light.
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I think when I post a stanza or two of a WIP, I'm more motivated to get the real thing done.
This poem came about in two parts:
Part one was the day before my birthday. I've been having various issues in nearly every facet of my life (school, family, dA, finances, take your pick), and it was worse somehow because it was so close to my birthday. So I got really depressed. My favorite professor noticed however, and spent most of the afternoon trying to coax me out of it. Then he sent me this wonderful e-mail telling me to smile, which is the subject of the last stanza. I had trouble reconciling the modern sounding "phone" or "e-mail" with the Dante references though.
Part two was two days after all that when I was back in the English department, asking him for some advice on my tutoring internship. He was about to leave anyway, so I walked with him down to the parking lot.
Having spent much of the summer in the department, nearly every time we left he had something to say about the weather. It being so hot, I was already in the mind of Dante and connected it back to the e-mail two days previous, one of Dante's most famous lines being "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here."
And thus concludes my long-winded explanation of how this poem came to be.
I'm still in love with that first stanza, the rest isn't nearly as good and I may use it again one day.
[EDIT] Annnnd, now it's a DLD: [link] With thanks to =DrippingWords
Read aloud here: [link]
This poem came about in two parts:
Part one was the day before my birthday. I've been having various issues in nearly every facet of my life (school, family, dA, finances, take your pick), and it was worse somehow because it was so close to my birthday. So I got really depressed. My favorite professor noticed however, and spent most of the afternoon trying to coax me out of it. Then he sent me this wonderful e-mail telling me to smile, which is the subject of the last stanza. I had trouble reconciling the modern sounding "phone" or "e-mail" with the Dante references though.
Part two was two days after all that when I was back in the English department, asking him for some advice on my tutoring internship. He was about to leave anyway, so I walked with him down to the parking lot.
Having spent much of the summer in the department, nearly every time we left he had something to say about the weather. It being so hot, I was already in the mind of Dante and connected it back to the e-mail two days previous, one of Dante's most famous lines being "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here."
And thus concludes my long-winded explanation of how this poem came to be.
I'm still in love with that first stanza, the rest isn't nearly as good and I may use it again one day.
[EDIT] Annnnd, now it's a DLD: [link] With thanks to =DrippingWords
Read aloud here: [link]
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I saw it on DLD it's amazing... this piece clearly has a definite reason why it's on DLD... kudos!