11-17-2014, 04:13 AM
Sunlight glinting on the sink reveals
there is no minty goodness,
only remnants of another evening to regret,
sad little crumbs of smudged lipstick, worn
elastic, despair. Hmmm. I want you to know that right now this is speak-easy. I don't feel like taking the cameo apart. What is the old fool babbling on about? Well, though I "get" the imagery, and I accept the circumstance, I cannot tell what it is that screams "change me". Is it the imprecision ( you can be imprecise and call it a virtue) of a "crumb" being a "smudge". Hell, how to interpret that? Tell me more about the solidification of "despair". I get the gut feeling but you are not responsible for....ah! Got it! It is "the english" grammar. You have run on. "Sad little crumbs" just CANNOT apply to smudges, elastic and abstractions like "despair". Sorry, but you know I can be pedantic. So shoot me and put it right posthumously. See if I don't care.
Bunny came from a crowded burrow,
no distinguishing features,
just youth and shyness
that lied to her loins. Nobody wants
you in your dull fur; shave, polish,
advertise. Yes to this but grammatically the punctuation is slapdash and loose. You get away with too much because you are brilliant. That way lies sychophancy. The crowded burrow had no distinguishing feature? You said it.
Pixels look pretty. Smooth, enhance,
engage. Old dogs become wild wolves,
easy to please with flesh. OK. I do this a good deal. Like just there. Statementalising. Who says old dogs become wild wolves? Mine has arthritis, hip dysphasia and fatty lypomas. She is about as wild as camomile....again, I get it, and actually like the "please with flesh" metaphor....but is it precise? Ho hum
Bright smiles cannot shine
under hands that grope, sweat,
turn to claws and
snap! Yes. Yes. Yes. This is real and probably veracious. Were you in Wandsworth 1970? Seriously, liking the trap. Snap!
Bunny brushes away the taste
of the dog that whimpers
until it stops. I don't need this stanza. It is gratuitously dramatic and though I will be shot down for saying so doesn't everything go until it stops. Fuck it. That's as pedantic as I can get on wine. Break out the Scotch and gird your loins...Bunny lied
Best,
tectak
there is no minty goodness,
only remnants of another evening to regret,
sad little crumbs of smudged lipstick, worn
elastic, despair. Hmmm. I want you to know that right now this is speak-easy. I don't feel like taking the cameo apart. What is the old fool babbling on about? Well, though I "get" the imagery, and I accept the circumstance, I cannot tell what it is that screams "change me". Is it the imprecision ( you can be imprecise and call it a virtue) of a "crumb" being a "smudge". Hell, how to interpret that? Tell me more about the solidification of "despair". I get the gut feeling but you are not responsible for....ah! Got it! It is "the english" grammar. You have run on. "Sad little crumbs" just CANNOT apply to smudges, elastic and abstractions like "despair". Sorry, but you know I can be pedantic. So shoot me and put it right posthumously. See if I don't care.
Bunny came from a crowded burrow,
no distinguishing features,
just youth and shyness
that lied to her loins. Nobody wants
you in your dull fur; shave, polish,
advertise. Yes to this but grammatically the punctuation is slapdash and loose. You get away with too much because you are brilliant. That way lies sychophancy. The crowded burrow had no distinguishing feature? You said it.
Pixels look pretty. Smooth, enhance,
engage. Old dogs become wild wolves,
easy to please with flesh. OK. I do this a good deal. Like just there. Statementalising. Who says old dogs become wild wolves? Mine has arthritis, hip dysphasia and fatty lypomas. She is about as wild as camomile....again, I get it, and actually like the "please with flesh" metaphor....but is it precise? Ho hum
Bright smiles cannot shine
under hands that grope, sweat,
turn to claws and
snap! Yes. Yes. Yes. This is real and probably veracious. Were you in Wandsworth 1970? Seriously, liking the trap. Snap!
Bunny brushes away the taste
of the dog that whimpers
until it stops. I don't need this stanza. It is gratuitously dramatic and though I will be shot down for saying so doesn't everything go until it stops. Fuck it. That's as pedantic as I can get on wine. Break out the Scotch and gird your loins...Bunny lied
Best,
tectak
It could be worse