Self and reality. Symbol and language. Myth and image. Memory and consciousness.
Dream and unreality: locus communis.

Friday, July 19, 2013

a story

268/ afterwards, she braids her hair into tight knotted circles, wanting to keep the memory of him within, as a close embrace—
269 / before, when he left, his backwards glance provided more words than his voice could ever provide— even now his memory runs deep—
270/ his lingering scent still clings to her hands, her hair— a casual turn of the head brings it all back: his voice calling out in sleep—
Experimenting with notions of fiction with the short verse form, other than autobiographical references. The latter is more expected— composing material based on an actuality, rather than a fantasy or imagine scene. But lately, my days have slipped into a level of deeper habitual patterns even beyond the average, mundane reality.

For this post, composed of three different writing sessions, I wanted to create a series of poems centered on the figure of a woman, living in an indeterminable era, yet motioning through her liaisons with a contemporary logic. Her perspective of a current lover as she goes about her day—

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