theenemyisyou Posted February 3, 2004 Report Posted February 3, 2004 And the earth quakes for its deliverance A crack marks the ceiling; plaster pieces, when caught, still, inevitably, crumble away: dust in the palm. It travels from the corner, stopping in a lovely point right above my head where I lay, hard wood panels for precious pillows. Earth shakes, or maybe just my soul, for 'tis hard to say in time like these. Fat gray cat, which somewhat resembles my father licks my face to draw me up, but I budge not, only lie, paralyzed by the beauties of this world. I watch as the crack, widening, travels its way into my torso. The cats ran and left me to break in two.
Regel Posted February 5, 2004 Report Posted February 5, 2004 QUite an abstract piece in it's wording and punctuation. There is some wonderful imagery in this poem hard wood panels for precious pillows laying on a parquet floor might seem like that. The other line I enjoyed was this one Fat gray cat, which somewhat resembles my father licks my face to draw me up, but I budge not, Troubles me that while I enjoyed the piece you try to speak to us on different levels but I can't quite see them. Perhaps this speaks to the fact that it's late and I'm tired and that the levels are there and I am not. I watch as the crack, widening, travels its way into my torso. The cats ran and left me to break in two No earthquake causes this but perhaps a personal upheaval creating the same effect on the person telling the story as an earthquake would have on the building?
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