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words whip by like satellites

Posted on 2007.04.15 at 18:12
After the sticky storm
the winds of change shake the trees of their winter burden
All is left on the naked boughs are cottony clumps
ammunition for mutant squirrel armies.


~~~~~~~~


I became a thief at the Drama Reading.
It was a rainy-day get together of the senior class and they'd come together to tell each other stories.
- not true -
They'd all come together to tell each other parts of stories. Only those snippets that didn't embarrass the fuck out of them - only those perfect movements that didn't hit false notes.
- shy little things -
I sat there, unacknowledged, nursing a pint; being the interloper. That grey man that everyone saw but noboby knew. Bringer of anxiety and self-doubt, I was the first cell, undivided, of their audience. I received their words. I washed them down with a bitter draught and bounced their imaginations off of my internal dialogue - savouring them - or spitting them back out, as the case warranted.
I took their words and offered no payment. I was the thief. I was their audience.

Comments:


skunkflower at 2007-04-16 01:40 (UTC) (Permanent link)

Looking for poetry

Very nice!

I went searching for some of your poems today, but alas, could not find any. And then, just like that, two of them appear on my screen. Serendipity.
Simply Stan
paperpath at 2007-04-16 02:37 (UTC) (Permanent link)

Re: Looking for poetry

here's one for you then, from 2001 :)
hope you like.

C'est la journée des grands soupires
nous revenons au pire en pire
que soyent les battements d'coeur
rapprochent les vents d'hiver

C'est la tamise des emotions
que pleur les larmes au plus profond
douce belle au courbes glorieuse
qu'on aime au plein des plus heureuses.
skunkflower at 2007-04-16 13:54 (UTC) (Permanent link)

Re: Looking for poetry

I do like it. A bit sad though, having to filter our emotions. I'm not saying we should act on them (I'm picturing a group of toddlers in daycare...) but let them occur, feel them, let them dissipate. (Shoveling snow in the pelting rain on the first day of my vacation always makes me a bit philosophical.)
Milk Lady
kdbuttongirl at 2007-04-16 14:09 (UTC) (Permanent link)
How true, we always only ever tell parts of stories, don't we? And the gaps get filled by the listener or reader -- and the stories become changed.

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