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Twenty-Three Lines for Scheffer (Porque una luz se levanta en el fuego de tu palabras.) Unlikely, like an impotent’s orgasm forgiveness the Host a porch some pillars I grasp the gate, I round the corner To Decay, its mound and stack so substantial and true. He did this: Kaisers, debased, gave gravity their knee; now It’s all one. Finding conviction in the Source, I depart from me, Where the corruption of my chorus is unceasing. I salute thee (Though neither of the Great Poles, Yet enlightened and engorged with the Holy Name) In missiles. With penetrating, warlike words, Some souls will discover thee: roughened In a moment that bends as if to say "We have the Antichrist." Herein it lies: that thing that splits the globe in green, That leastmost part, that clue of faceless paradise: "I sport Lorca in my back pocket." |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2005-10-06 13:30:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
All the chicks were wondering what that was...
I told them it was Hurricane Mark.
They said "Which one? Which one?"
I can't tell sometimes. You could be twins.
You're certainly 'Mysterium-ish' -
I wander...
"that thing that splits the globe in green,"
is a shoe looking for a horn.
all the best
thomas the nano
migrating back to the source