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Literature Text
-1-
I caress your unfurling brow,
Triangles, the color red
Topaz and turpentine
The scent of (p){0,1}in[k/e]{1,1}
The corner of your eye
I am hammocked in
Storm
Cloud
Candy
-II-
The dew point is defined as the time
Where eye-thoughts of emerald replace vision with mist
-III-
Childish glee screams down the paths
Rubber ball like a swallow between trees, benches
This park is an echo
I caress your unfurling brow,
Triangles, the color red
Topaz and turpentine
The scent of (p){0,1}in[k/e]{1,1}
The corner of your eye
I am hammocked in
Storm
Cloud
Candy
-II-
The dew point is defined as the time
Where eye-thoughts of emerald replace vision with mist
-III-
Childish glee screams down the paths
Rubber ball like a swallow between trees, benches
This park is an echo
Literature
Deer
You came back in the fall
and I told you you could go —
already almost gone
like the deer I came upon one day,
slow breathing beside me
before it leaped. You stayed
and stayed and now the air
is crisp with lack of you.
Literature
Christmas
Night was falling around Bethlehem, and the stars in the sky watched with interest a girl sneaking out of her home in the dark. They twinkled at each other, as if saying "Oh look, here she goes again", for she had been doing this ever since she had arrived when she was seven years old. Past the houses she ran, until she had left the village behind and could run openly across the meadows, her fingers dancing on the fleeces of sheep as she passed.
The girl slowed down to a careful walk as she neared a cavern. Here and there, geometrically arranged stones hinted at a long abandoned settlement. A sudden breeze sang in the grass beneath her feet,
Literature
i.
Within blue eyes
anemone and starfish
abound, and seaweed eyelashes
move leisurely with the tides.
At sunset they sparkle,
lined with golden sand
and swirling without a sure direction,
becoming cloudy as a storm brews.
Beware, anger flashes across the surface,
where riptides catch the unwary
ships and sailors, wrecked
and broken amongst its depths.
Only the brave venture in,
attracted by the untameable,
roaring waves and sharp wind.
Eyes stinging, they enter the battle.
Slowly they themselves become blue,
the cold clinging to their skin,
sucking out all their warmth.
Then white as stone,
lips cracked and filled with salt
that leaves a bitter
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Another exercise in chaos. Part of this is an attempt to write the way some of my illustrative idols (Blake, Templesmith, Storrey, Wood) (some new, some old) put lines on the page.
© 2011 - 2024 exquisiteoath
Comments17
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This is so beautiful. I really like the style you've used here.
And do I spy use of regular expressions?
Or is that just my inner geek coming out?
And do I spy use of regular expressions?
Or is that just my inner geek coming out?