It's not
sexual
they say.
It's just
that it
seems that
you're so
you're so
easy to
talk to?
black eyes
fish lips
sick of
dumb chicks.
Hot mouths
talking,
they say
sobbing
sister
sister
there's no
stopping
these mind
wanderings.
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wanderings:
ReplyDeletethese mind stopping
there's no sister, sister
sobbing they say
talking, hot, mouths.
dumb chicks, sick of fish
lips, black eyes.
talk to,
easy to?
youre so
youre so.
seems that,
that it,
it's just..
they say:sexual.
It's not.
thats right...i went all loren on yo' ass
Wow dudes. I'm all excited and I just can't hide it because I just did the same thing (pretty much) to one of mine. Here's the original:
ReplyDeleteOn Veterans Days I try
to peel back your lids, to see
where you crouched
in your foxhole, eating
mud and wanting
your hands among
the flounce of mortars.
Do you know this awful welling
when you see the world or
did it bleed from you that day?
When I drink wine I feel your
steel in my guts, warming
like a rod, spun by sadness.
But in July your eyes are too heavy
to bring home. Boot dust
from a distant star quakes gently
in their fleece. I'm sleeping for us now.
The dreams used to be spirals
but now they're peculiar and
nothing to be proud of.
And here it is, backwards, almost word by word w/new commas:
of proud to be nothing and peculiar
they're but spirals
used dreams the now for us sleeping
I'm distant there in gentle quakes
star distant
from dust boot home
a bring to heavy
too are eyes
your July but in sadness
by spun rod a like warming gut
my in-steel your feel I wine
drink I when day that your from bleeds
it did or the world did
see you when welling awful this
know you do mortars of flounce
the among hands
your wanting and mud
eating foxhole, your in crouched you
where see to lids
your back, peel to try I
days
veterans
on
That's still pretty rough, but this is probably one of my favorite new techniques for reshuffling the old deck, as I'm finding my deck old-seeming these days. Anyway, the coolest thing abotu these (to me) is the sense these poems make on the other side of the mirror, a sense that is more exciting and larger. Mine needs some work...but I think your poem slides down like water, looking like this. I mean, the short lines really hook it up, and the backwards repetition has, for some reason, more urgency for me. OK, enough. I'm gonna go work on mine.