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Released almost 2 years ago
Text_notecard_shadow_top_left These are seeds spat into a red earth.
Words to arrange themselves in neat stacks,
that flit and bloom in birth, wrapping roots
in snappy syntax. Wit sharp as scythes
run across a whetstone tongue,
reaping a gray brain, thoughts like little prayers
to providence, caught in wine-red welts on pink skin:
sin that sinks in. I am stoic and undressed,
silly, sultry, statuesque.
Speaking words, like
“happiness”
or “elephant”
or “shoe.”
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Feanne recommended prayer, patterns; poetry on January 22, 2011
ElspethKoktavi recommended prayer, patterns; poetry on December 12, 2010
crispyfuller recommended prayer, patterns; poetry on December 12, 2010
bloemday recommended prayer, patterns; poetry on December 12, 2010
RE: prayer, patterns; poetry
newpyramids remarked on December 12, 2010

sfdetrioter, you got everything I was going for with this. The understanding alone always means so much - thanks a lot!
RE: prayer, patterns; poetry
sfdetroiter remarked on November 09, 2010

(Duh... I'm re-reading this now and see the Plath reference too! Missed it last time.)

I really like this.
Jessica Standifird recommended prayer, patterns; poetry on October 01, 2010
RE: prayer, patterns; poetry
sfdetroiter remarked on October 01, 2010

This reminds me of something Anne Sexton said. She was really fond of the palindrome, "rats live on no evil star" - not sure why exactly, but I'm guessing it had to do with the power words have to take on a life of their own - e.g., with a palindrome, once you have one half in place, the other writes itself. This may not be an exact quote, but Sexton once said something like, "All I am is the trick of words writing themselves."

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