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| | | From: Susan (Original Message) | Sent: 11/28/2001 5:16 AM |
Use this image to fill in the spaces between the words. Let it complete the poem in your mind. Let your voice and sound come through; your imagination, your sense memory; project the vision without referring to the specific image. We have spoken of "dark." Let us read into the camera obscura. The "dark room." Your private space. susan |
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on the crisp edge i trys to sit 'til it's plain they's none. wrapping arms around can't do: they's too short... sliding i goes into the shadow. |
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| | | From: helen | Sent: 11/28/2001 9:59 PM |
Of course,The Fall.
When I took the blame for
every damn thing that
would happen from
then on. |
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| | | From: Ron | Sent: 11/29/2001 2:21 AM |
she sits in contemplation
of poets' awful perfection,
wishing to seem the dream,
wishing more truth to mean
that even the bruise remains
part of the fruit it stains |
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| | | From: Susan | Sent: 11/29/2001 4:08 AM |
sculpting fragments, stories, enigmatics thrust into faces varnished brown sardonic -- recovering timetrees clutching bluebit leaves of children's eyes reaching still. |
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