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remainder, there is so much left unsaid

sentences:  we implement the elements
  of our speech
       
                  yeah.ok.right

so begins a rail-ridden experiment, a vulnerable grope
  for relatable stories, the sentence
      of interest, and the sketch
                                of a character

                  hisname.hername.
                  allthesenameless.

tyche, introduce narcissus
                  to galatea
              a train to ottawa.
        a conversation about europe.
    any scent to freshen the threatening stench of dead air.


    her bottom lip, a question there hangs
          teeters
    tips back and tumbles, clatters
      rattles
    against a blanched row of dentin dainties,
                                        falls
                                            with a muffled groan, down
                                              the starless prayer of her throat...

                       
                            "i got this shirt for seven dollars.
                            there was a clearance sale at harry rosen..."

                            "poetry is all depression and suicide."

                            "...was a pretty good deal, i think."
                           


a new pair of docs.  a new confidence.
an air of respectability that sends young women scratching to cover up their lower back tattoos, their symbols
of impulse, temptation, and haste

a cramping anxiety striates the skin of two faces

          he is not dark enough.                she is not smart enough.
a question hangs behind them, watches
    from the window as they exit
    none too soon at kingston:    how much happiness can be wrung from a lie?


the rest of the ride -

a meeting of expectation
an even keel of tolerable irritation.
a cluster of words and not a single sentence.

word choices, tense and pov agreement, general critical ideas

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Comments

1 - 6 of 6

  • Centricity
    April 5, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    [any scent to freshen the threatening stench of dead air.]
    I dig this.

    [tips back and tumbles, clatters / rattles]
    I dig this less.

    [the starless prayer of her throat.]
    I dig this, too.

    I like the snippets of conversation in the middle of the piece, but the first one just... seems long. I know there's a banality to it that fits the purpose, but it still feels ... well, awkward. Maybe that's the point. Anyway, while you might want to consider shorting or splitting the line above, I do like
    ["poetry is all depression and suicide."]

    [a cramping anxiety striates the skin of two faces]
    [an even keel of tolerable irritation.
    a cluster of words and not a single sentence.]
    Mmm. Pretty.

    You always bring me the best lines. You do.


    • editorinchimp
      April 7, 2007
      Edit | Reply
      well, we hate the same parts. =P

      i just don't know what to do with the conversation interlude or the image of the question falling into her mouth. the conversation was supposed to be, since she swallows her question, as though they both blurt something out at the same time to cover the dead air. it's hard to get that effect in writing, but i'll be damned if i won't try.

      thanks again for your comment, m'dear.

      • Centricity
        April 25, 2007
        Edit | Reply
        Maybe if you lose "tips back and tumbles, clatters"?
        Leaving:

        her bottom lip, a question there hangs
        teeters
        rattles
        against a blanched row of dentin dainties,
        falls
        with a muffled groan, down
        the starless prayer of her throat...


        For the other part...
        What if you were to mix the two statements a little more? A few words of the first part, half the other sentence, a few more words, the second half of the other and then ending with "...was a pretty good deal, I think."

  • editorinchimp
    April 5, 2007
    Edit | Reply

  • editorinchimp
    April 5, 2007
    Edit | Reply

  • editorinchimp
    April 5, 2007
    Edit | Reply
1 - 6 of 6