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Monday, January 08, 2007

 

Ode

when it had turned its face to june
we talked about the amber moon
and my home slice left me hanging
like a silver scaled fish
and the hole's still in my tongue
so all the words fall through it
but where the hook is i can't say
he up and took the hook away
the hole in the clouds is a bloody gash
and the sand on the beach upsets like a rash
but still i hold onto a bag full of ash
cause one man's trash is another man's trash trash trash

Comments:
You melted my little heart.

fantastically brilliant linebreak: "ane my home slice left my hanging/like silver scaled fish"

gigantically strange image: "the hole in the clouds is a bloody gash"

Again, you put the rest of us art producing youth to shame . . .

Could you please record yourself reading this so that we could one day maybe use it for something?
 
yes yes, this is really amazing. i'd love to pick out a favorite part, but like brandon did, i'd probably quote half the entire thing! i love the homeslice line. the words falling through the hole. holding onto a bag of ash. all of it!

wonderful.

i wish i had a way with words. i can only barely speak.
 
is the home slice who I think it is?
 
probably not because i wrote this in an ichat to morgan fox because he was not responding to me. thanks boys. i blush.
 
the fact that you wrote that in ichat, spontaneously, so spur of the moment, makes me even more in awe of you and this ode.
 
I really love how the rhyme builds and builds. Also, the world falling through the whole in your tongue, the hook, how the simile carries on through the poem. Damn fine work.
 
aww. wonderful, of course.
 
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