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March 19, 2004

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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yes, i continue to make less and less sense 😉 [actually, i do, but only to me…], but don’t u love me all the more for it 😛


 


 


[a] directionless (conversation)


 


no, this one has no direction. it has {or comes with} no direction(s) at all


 


 


 


 


 


the silence on the other end


          stretching out before me


            like an open road


                flat and distant,    a round bowl of sky light     before me


                              (cold with a care)                      (blue light)


            like the other half of a song I used to know


                        the song from that tinny radio


                    you used to hold in your lap


                        on blistering, hot, summer, {bust-a-fire-hydrant} days….


                  when we sat out on the covered porch


                        longing, as we used to, to lay flat out on our backs                (stained dark)


                                                                        out on the sand or grass or floorboards—


                                                                                                                          sprawled


                                                                  because it was just plain cooler on the ground


                     [imissyouimissyou]— flashes of the lyrics                  (a bad blink 182)


                                            would play out in my mind and                       (or good?)


             like the dial-tone before the end of the song


                before the end of my line


                 before the missed cue at the end of the play


                  before i knew you


 


                                                                        LQ 115—no, no, 116(!)—please.


            like the strumming of guitars


              [a bass humming away]


                        of inexpert fingers brushing gently against the striated lines


                                                            of metal strings


                                                                that simply quiver with delight


                                                              waiting to resonate in deep melody


                                                          to the harmony being played out in my head


                                         the softened pads of my fingertips


                                    smoothened out against the tiny grooves


                             of a guitar string


                          yet to be hung


                                             twisted into looping turns


                                                                                    and aching curves


                                                                                        dancing sighs


                                                                                      and the occasional hopeful glance


                                                                                                            upwards


                                                                                                            ever, upwards


                                                from the neck of one so smiling, and brilliant


                                                                        bright and, yet dark


                                                                {far be it for me to call favorites}


 


and, yet this empty line……………………………………………………………………


 


 


__________(it stretches across my vision like a sore, never to be healed)_____________


 


 


                                                                                          as if asking to be plucked{


                                                                       in this patient, strung out, tension of a silence


                                                                                                             on the other end


or was it mine?


 

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Comments»

1. Anonymous - April 3, 2004

WOW… that was deep and intense… I wonder what you were thinking about at the moment that you wrote that… i would inquire, but the secret of it is what makes it so pure… brilliant… thank you for subscribing to my site… hope to hear from you again soon… take care!

2. LordPineapple - April 3, 2004

I MUST read this again when I am less tired.

3. closethippie - April 3, 2004

I like this immensely.  I have some writings a bit in this general style but nothing this complete.  Enjoyed reading this.  Keep it up.  Cyn


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