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I am 20 years behind schedule: still, here, at the true end of this poem, there really is some kind of hope. it’s vastly more important that I remember this now: and while it’s interesting that it had till lately slipped my mind to, without hesitation, reject unreasonable constraints, at fifteen, I somehow 'knew' my love had no proof unless it was written. no future without sex, at fourteen … I was so stunned … she insisted our love must have of all things, a cashed-up wallet ... Jennie was an 'overdeveloped' girl ... for instance, like years ago when I wrote poetry (under her duress) about the most striking things ... oddities that appear when I try to think/write backwards ... I've found that my memory’s consolations are full of "I feel myself getting closer to some kind of ‘source’": as far as this relates to my current poetry, I’ve got some catching up to do because, really, I know now that I am 20 years behind schedule. But eventually, my mind turns back on itself: |
Additional Notes:
For anyone who's interested, now try reading the poem backwards, from the bottom line by line to the top.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2006-01-03 22:27:30
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.63636
There is little else to occupy the mind this month.
I shall ricochet tween the alpha and o-
The mirror and the man holding the razor -
The pith and woe of TPL.
Condemned.