1367 lines
47 KiB
Plaintext
1367 lines
47 KiB
Plaintext
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+======== January 1995 ==================== Volume Volume, Number 3 ========+
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| *** *** ******** ******** ******** ******* ******* ***** *** |
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| * * * * * ****** ** *** * * **** * * *** * * ***** ** ** * * |
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| * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * |
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| * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * |
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| * *** * * * **** * * * * * **** * * *** * * ***** * * * * |
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| ***** * * * ** * * * * * * *** ** * *** * ***** * * * * * |
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| * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * |
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| * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * |
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| ***** * * **** * ** *** * * * * ** * * * * ***** * ** ** * ***** |
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| ******* ******** ******** *** **** *** *** ******* ***** ******* |
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| ************************************************************************* |
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| [ A JOURNAL OF THE POETIC ARTS ] |
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| Editor: Klaus J. Gerken |
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| Associate Editors: Paul Lauda |
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| : Pedro Sena |
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| Production Editor: Igal Koshevoy |
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| European Editor: Milan Georges Djordjevitch |
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+===========================================================================+
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***************************************************************************
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[ TABLE OF CONTENTS ]
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***************************************************************************
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INTRODUCTION..............................Klaus J. Gerken
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Winter....................................Klaus J. Gerken
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Medic'in..................................Tim Whittlemore
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More stuff and nonsense...................Tim Whittlemore
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Here it comes!............................Tim Whittlemore
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Dags......................................Tim Whittlemore
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old stuff.................................Tim Whittlemore
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Old stuff.................................Tim Whittlemore
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"Salvation"...............................Tim Whittlemore
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Even as...................................Tim Whittlemore
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dark musings..............................Tim Whittlemore
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A question................................Tim Whittlemore
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Old wedding rings.........................Tim Whittlemore
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remembrances..............................Tim Whittlemore
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Clock.....................................Jim Yagmin
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setting suns..............................Jim Yagmin
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Her face is water, clear and cool-........Jim Yagmin
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110994, in part...........................Jennifer Mulcahy & Gay Bost
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Sweet November's.........................Gay Bost
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I Want, My Friend, I Want.................Gay Bost
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English teacher anthem....................Michael Kelly
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Personal Statement........................Michael Kelly
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requiem to my southern belle..............Evan Light
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riding out the storm......................Igal Koshevoy
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When I upon my deathbed lie...............David Cariddi
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Drip......................................David Cariddi
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Rust......................................David Cariddi
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The Fence.................................David Cariddi
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Journeys..................................Earnest Russell
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POST SCRIPTUM.............................Gay Bost
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**************************************************************************
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[ INTRODUCTION ]
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**************************************************************************
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The heavy January consumes my thoughts like the musty smell of dry
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wood in a shed. The shed is like our shelter from the elements. Cozy,
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warm and intimate. Venturing outside we find ourselves confronted with an
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expanse of zinc white and cerulean blue and vastly different reaction
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than what the safety of the shelter will provide. Here, outside, we see
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ourselves, not as a personal entity, but as an entity evolved from other
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entities. Yet knowing that we are a part of a greater vaster entity, we
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also feel more vulnerable, and most of all, we feel alone.
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The safety of the shelter provides a comfort, where we merge with
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others within ourselves: we become part of our comfortable surrounding.
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The shelter becomes us. Outside of the shelter we confront ourselves, not
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as beings internal to ourselves, but beings internal to our environment.
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The shaman knows this and creates a "comfort zone" through which the
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outer can be integrated with the inner. The Poet likewise must confront
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this when dealing with "reality"; a reality built from observations and
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theoretical and mathematical formulae, but still a reality which we
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inhabit. As the shaman heals through comforting and integrating all the
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elements, the poet explains by integration all these elements into one
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clear assault upon the senses.
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A Zen monk claps to startle potential initiates, and says this
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startling must not startle, but must be understood as the illusion of the
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startling, thus the poet uses words and expressions to do much the same,
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yet it is the potential "initiate", the reader who must conform his or
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her own reality. One cannot be outside looking in. One must be involved
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with one's whole being: body and brain.
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The shaman, the poet and the zen monk each confront reality and
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introduce others to its potential. Yet those who would not be healed
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cannot be healed, and those who would not be startled, cannot be
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enlightened, and thus also those who do not have an open mind cannot read
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and gain from the expression of poetry. These are the people who rely on
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others to tell them something. And they refuse to listen when they are
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told something which does not conform to what they have been taught.
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Let us hope each one realize their own ability through others. Words
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and thought is a process of communication, it is not aloneness. Poetry
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shares; and through poetry, let others share also.
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-- KJ Gerken
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============================================================================
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riding out the storm
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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the city passes through glass reflection
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thousand pointed lights suspended in vacuum stasis
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each faint glimmer of transparent mystery
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an opportunity
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not taken
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hesitation on the outskirts of the glowing city
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and mind redefines the distance between us:
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on the outskirts - because i don't want to enter
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on the edge - because i don't want to leave
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staring face-to-face into countless emerald eyes
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blinking embers malnourished
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into disagreed acceptance
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starving under dim illumination
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one from lack of misunderstanding
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and the other from too much
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with neither knowing who they are
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nor who they should be
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-Igal Koshevoy (m)
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March 18, 1994; 10:24pm
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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Winter
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~~~~~~
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Incense burns deep sandlewood,
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cedar, pine. Civilisation turns
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upon its axis. Poets prose inadequate
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things more meaningful thereof.
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Outside ice forms on roads
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and squirrels argue amongst
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each other for peanuts and
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sunflower seeds strewn around
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the yard. Trees perform a pantomime
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against the backdrop
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of the cabalistic sky Powder puffs
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of clouds create themselves anew.
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(Who says they have no entity?)
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A Van Goth lithograph hangs on the wall
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- flowers in a vase -. The yellow
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blinds the eyes, glowing like
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the Auvers' sun which so much
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the earless painter loved.
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A chessboard stands on a side table
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in the corner: pieces strewn asunder.
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Books of sullen moods
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are piled haphazardly on the shelves.
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A canvas propped against the wall:
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empty now of images. The expectation
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of the new... Old and dusty manuscripts
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lie dormant and untyped,
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hidden in a clothes closet:
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Memories of long ago. Thoughts consumed
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in confidence. Shattered dreams;
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the monuments of hope. And old and
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broken down typewriter on the desk:
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scratched with marks of nervousness.
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Empty pens; scattered words...
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Exhausted themes like Masks that are
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no longer Masks. Silence which we
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might yet come to her hear...
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The incense burns sharp,
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like the shadows on the snow.
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Can we really know what we have known?
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Or is it that to us poor souls
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the truth is never shown?
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-- Klaus J. Gerken
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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Medic'in
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~~~~~~~~
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I am a professional.
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The stains are gone from my jacket,
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the glass brushed from my pants.
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The cut on my hand will heal,
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given time.
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I want to forget....
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Crushed car seats,
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...and scattered toys.
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Why?
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Why am I surprised and cry
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at a blood-spattered teddybear?
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I suppose the cuts that don't show,
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hurt the worst.
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-- Tim Whittlemore
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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More stuff and nonsense...
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Silhouetted against the sunset,
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and purple low clouds;
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I pace another candle in the holder.
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I wait for morning,
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as the house slides into the dusk.
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Violets,
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She gave to me this morning....
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I will never be lost enough to forget her,
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Our love lasts.
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-- Tim Whittlemore
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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Here it comes!
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Make yourself beautiful with laughter,
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under a cloud-swept sky.
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With a full heart,
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ignore the storm's warnings...
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For a rain soaked, passionate kiss.
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You make me tremble.
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We never guessed this would happen,
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as my hand soothes away your dress,
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to the sparkling grass.
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-- Tim Whittlemore
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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Dags..
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~~~~
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I am tired.
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And your beauty is more than I can bear.
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I must look away to the stars.
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Even as you do, and hold my hand.
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Your kiss comes,
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as silently as the descent of a tear.
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Until my strength returns within your trembling arms;
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and then,
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there is no reason to stop.
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-- Tim Whittlemore
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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old stuff
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~~~~~~~~~
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How could I know you were sunshine,
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until the rainclouds came?
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How could I know things were different,
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till they couldn't be the same?
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How could I know you were laughter,
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Till it wouldn't come today?
|
||
How could I know you were love,
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till you went away?
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-- Tim Whittlemore
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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Old stuff
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||
~~~~~~~~~
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||
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||
You came to me like summer storm,
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||
white lightening in the sky.
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A potent warning in the stillness
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||
of a love that cannot die.
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||
The stifling heat,
|
||
the silence await with hope and dread.
|
||
The thunderclouds of passion,
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||
the pain of things unsaid.
|
||
You came with wind and thunder to sweep away all else.
|
||
An all-enveloping deluge, warm as sand,
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and death.
|
||
Like summer storm you went away and left me shaken, still.
|
||
Yearning for the summer rain, the lips that kiss or kill.
|
||
What remnant of our love is left?
|
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Memories that will not die.
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||
The warmth, and smell of summer rain...
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||
and white lightening in the sky.
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-- Tim Whittlemore
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|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
"Salvation"
|
||
~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Shrouded,
|
||
in the temple of unreason;
|
||
the old priests in television clownface,
|
||
have you on their list, son.
|
||
Even though you pretend to believe
|
||
in the priests of confusion,
|
||
and the polyester singers...
|
||
seeking fame---
|
||
Unless you run without looking back,
|
||
their manicured, lacquered, talons will hook you--
|
||
and you'll love them even more from beneath your
|
||
decaying mask of "Salvation."
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Tim Whittlemore
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
Even as
|
||
~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Even as
|
||
Bronze wind chimes play in the wind;
|
||
your fantasy lovers,
|
||
know exactly what you want.
|
||
They never tire,
|
||
they have no morals,
|
||
and no remorse.
|
||
The nights are brighter than the days,
|
||
while you dream.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Tim Whittlemore
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
dark musings
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Lightening flashes, illuminating my face.
|
||
Within the glass I hold, in this empty, cold place.
|
||
I cannot sleep. I close my eyes and you are there.
|
||
I hold my sanity in an icy, clenched fist...
|
||
Were I to open it, I would scatter like the autumn leaves in this storm.
|
||
The thunder echo's my soul's dark rumblings, now that you are not here to
|
||
balance me...
|
||
Why do I remember so well?
|
||
Let me sleep. Oh let me sleep forever...
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Tim Whittlemore
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
A question...
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Dream fantasy, landscape of ombre shadows, unreal light.
|
||
Illume the philosophic question: Can self and soul be so divisible?
|
||
Among the fallen idols roams the mindless flesh,
|
||
carrying the skin of a soul.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Tim Whittlemore
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
Old wedding rings
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
What can you do with old wedding rings?
|
||
Too precious to throw out in anger--
|
||
Too painful to wear in remembrance or honor.
|
||
So they sit in odd places in your drawer,
|
||
to surprise you at odd moments, with memories
|
||
that shoot arrows into odd places in your heart.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Tim Whittlemore
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
remembrances
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Even now, I peer out the window and expect to see you running through
|
||
the fields, coming home.
|
||
At night, I listen for you. All the sounds so loud outside my window.
|
||
But you never come running to me, and my nights are awesomely silent;
|
||
your chair sits waiting, empty. And a part of me sits waiting more
|
||
empty than the chair...
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Tim Whittlemore
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
Clock
|
||
~~~~~
|
||
|
||
His bitter sway-
|
||
arcs-
|
||
clocking the pendulum
|
||
-dignified-
|
||
pennilessly,
|
||
he alone-
|
||
counting the seconds-
|
||
our lives-
|
||
An occasional glance
|
||
from All,
|
||
that is his purpose.
|
||
|
||
a Wise Man-
|
||
follows his swing,
|
||
meditates the antique wood,
|
||
swallows the bitter note
|
||
of his clocking pendulum-
|
||
Then moves on,
|
||
Never looking to him-
|
||
never again-
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Jim Yagmin
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
setting suns
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
and i forgot
|
||
just why i'm here-
|
||
once again
|
||
i've gone searching-
|
||
nothing new
|
||
my train of thought-
|
||
no destination
|
||
that i sought
|
||
endless nameless
|
||
living on-
|
||
walking miles-
|
||
setting suns-
|
||
endless ocean
|
||
ridden waves
|
||
to the shore
|
||
on land- the slaves.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Jim Yagmin
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
Her face is water, clear and cool-
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Her face is water, clear and cool-
|
||
Body- A lithe birch, bending
|
||
With wind from all directions,
|
||
Holding her straight, white
|
||
As the moon on the darkest eve-
|
||
Dark eyes- a pool of shimmering light,
|
||
Reflecting all kindness
|
||
Absorbing all wrong,
|
||
Lips- red as death,
|
||
Transparent; showing her warm blood
|
||
Swirling endless within her realm.
|
||
Her hair is fire, warm and wild-
|
||
Curling-waving-cascading down,
|
||
Wind feeds her flame, whisking
|
||
Her soul and aura above-
|
||
As I wait below:
|
||
Love-
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Jim Yagmin
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
110994, in part
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Steel blue sky and tumultuous sea,
|
||
Hardened fast but so near free
|
||
Withheld long, no longer still-
|
||
From liquid thunder: ravenous will.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Jennifer Mulcahy
|
||
. . .
|
||
|
||
Three sided wonder in the neon night.
|
||
Caress of the spirit in fleshed delight.
|
||
|
||
A tired snowflake on the lips of love
|
||
Cloud scattered passion; a winged dove.
|
||
|
||
Endless mystery, eternal flight
|
||
Tortured innocence, myth's dark fright.
|
||
|
||
We three
|
||
We three
|
||
|
||
Come walking through winter's mist
|
||
Rabid age, sweet mother, and maid unkissed
|
||
|
||
Wrapped in arms of a misplaced love
|
||
Wilted in spring by abandoned love
|
||
|
||
The words don't come easy, nor do they rhyme
|
||
When there's naught but the knight to outfit time.
|
||
|
||
Coaxer, lover's wraith, a misspent heart.
|
||
Gone in the twilight, world's apart.
|
||
|
||
Endless mystery, at the peak of time.
|
||
Succumb to the comfort of the unpainted mime.
|
||
|
||
There's a word, there's a play, there's an open house
|
||
There's a sweet beribboned ... unhurried ... mouse.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Gay Bost
|
||
November 9, 1994
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
Sweet November's
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Lost little wanderer
|
||
Passionate child
|
||
Woman past innocence
|
||
Rationality gone wild.
|
||
|
||
Touched at the dawning
|
||
reborn in the past
|
||
living the answers
|
||
the fools have cast.
|
||
|
||
Old stone and old bones
|
||
crying out to been known
|
||
loveless and loving
|
||
seeking her home.
|
||
|
||
See where the wind speaks
|
||
Hear the sun cry
|
||
Touch the moon's sorrow
|
||
for you and I
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Gay Bost
|
||
November 9, 1994
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
I Want, My Friend, I Want
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
I want to run through thistle's blooming blush
|
||
and dance atop the firefly's wing
|
||
where laughter welcomes morning's kisses
|
||
and no one wonders why I sing.
|
||
|
||
I want to sink with summer's thickening sap
|
||
and sleep uncovered in the loam
|
||
where mushrooms sprout in secret shadows
|
||
and cobwebs flutter far from home.
|
||
|
||
I want to drift upon the long wave home
|
||
and sail beneath the silver sea
|
||
where ancient mariners yet wander
|
||
and there is truly shelter in the lee.
|
||
|
||
I want to fly behind the glowing landscape
|
||
and glide upon the silken shroud
|
||
where dewdrops whisper silent prayers
|
||
and "Love" is spoken right out loud.
|
||
|
||
I want to ride the northwind's rushing howl
|
||
and step into the snowflake's eyes
|
||
where crystal memories fade in flurries
|
||
and color floods the endless skies.
|
||
|
||
I want to touch the sun with dawn's first tremble
|
||
and wake into the glowing day
|
||
where wildflowers visions come to tarry
|
||
and moonlit seasons illume their way.
|
||
|
||
I want all that I've ever dreamt I've had,
|
||
and so much more than is my due
|
||
where windows open wide upon the world
|
||
and I want these things for you.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Gay Bost
|
||
November 1994
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
English teacher anthem.
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Your english language can go to hell.
|
||
|
||
Mounting words like butterflies,
|
||
a pin through the chest behind a pane of glass.
|
||
|
||
You conduct yourself grammatically,
|
||
a pin through your chest, behind a pane of glass.
|
||
|
||
You read the world in a set of quotations,
|
||
and speak in a paraphrase.
|
||
|
||
Shakespeare can go to hell,
|
||
he's nothing more than a snotty-nosed bastard in your arms.
|
||
|
||
Your a meticulous reader,
|
||
but you never could write, can you live?
|
||
Living with a red pen and magnifying glass,
|
||
circling and underlining.
|
||
|
||
Contriving; thesaurus wings can't make you fly,
|
||
your thoughts are to thin to soar upon.
|
||
Your vocabulary extends past what you own inside.
|
||
|
||
Coleridge can go to hell,
|
||
he's nothing more than a pretentious bastard in your arms.
|
||
|
||
Underline and read between the lines,
|
||
the passion passes you by every time.
|
||
|
||
Swept up in the moment, over taken by the momentum.
|
||
What comes out is what comes out.
|
||
Your saying that my words came out too quick.
|
||
My emotions flowed too fluently, too easily.
|
||
|
||
Diagram and pick it apart.
|
||
My expository was never an expository,
|
||
your expositories can go to hell,
|
||
|
||
I let my ink bleed
|
||
not bend to the boundaries of
|
||
those caught up in their educations.
|
||
|
||
Your english language can go to hell,
|
||
I don't take well to bondage,
|
||
neither did Chaucer.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Michael Kelly
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
Personal Statement
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
This is the sum of my life;
|
||
the swells and the declines.
|
||
I'm the cynic,
|
||
without a working pen.
|
||
I found the truth under a rock
|
||
(the smut)
|
||
before I was even ten.
|
||
Knee deep in a world
|
||
of obsolete and useless dreams,
|
||
I'm the child
|
||
that refuses to keep clean.
|
||
This is the sum of my life-
|
||
|
||
The long haul home,
|
||
this road is a joke.
|
||
Reel around my head,
|
||
muttering pictures
|
||
that beg me to tell
|
||
(their useless stories);
|
||
the beat goes on..
|
||
half-witted and cross-eyed-
|
||
|
||
I was a child with lice and training wheels-
|
||
My grandparents owned a house in the country,
|
||
and had a dog named mindy;
|
||
they shot her in a corn-field,
|
||
to save her from the pain.
|
||
I remember the chalk-like powder
|
||
they laid down at my grammar school
|
||
whenever someone threw-up their last meal,
|
||
and the moments in my sandbox
|
||
with the pincher-bugs and dirty finger-nails...
|
||
|
||
The weary paths,
|
||
with dust that malingers,
|
||
and pot-holes
|
||
that make young boys
|
||
shiver.
|
||
This is the sum of my life
|
||
(yes, reduced to a whisper).
|
||
|
||
The rhyme is laid,
|
||
the words are golden,
|
||
and I just cannot fallow.
|
||
Dogs and men
|
||
chase the same truth-
|
||
the same rear-end.
|
||
Again and again, I haven't read,
|
||
yet talk as if I did.
|
||
Sophistication from a pin prick,
|
||
and sophistication from a
|
||
thesaurus.
|
||
Eight grade essays
|
||
on the same old allegory,
|
||
and the eight-five is for
|
||
not answering the question.
|
||
Faint from knowing,
|
||
that no one else is knowing-
|
||
that they are just a period
|
||
at the end of a big nothing.
|
||
Fields and fields of
|
||
what I do not believe in-
|
||
oh so cultivated.
|
||
The oxen around the mill, and the
|
||
surveyor with the whip,
|
||
and the sun that teeters and tips..
|
||
but never falls.
|
||
The soft moon
|
||
will never win back the day,
|
||
the pain may go
|
||
but the ulcer will stay,
|
||
this is the sum of my life
|
||
this is the sum of my life-
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Michael Kelly
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
requiem to my southern belle
|
||
~~~~~~~ ~~ ~~ ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~
|
||
|
||
a bleeding spine
|
||
staining your bed
|
||
baptizing you pure
|
||
impure
|
||
|
||
everyone seems tainted
|
||
but now who else is
|
||
pure
|
||
but the
|
||
anglo-white virgin
|
||
in transparent dress
|
||
makeupmasked face
|
||
faux dimples of love
|
||
all draining your spine
|
||
all seeking
|
||
faith
|
||
that manifest invention
|
||
of elderly men with limited edition
|
||
glockenschpiel collections
|
||
your sins are alphabetized for a
|
||
swifter forgiveness
|
||
cigars burn with a limburg taste
|
||
tobacco for the ageless
|
||
|
||
the pure
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Evan Light
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
[truth]
|
||
|
||
i know you.
|
||
i've tasted your soul.
|
||
i've been to your home.
|
||
i've crawled on your floor.
|
||
i've looked in your eyes.
|
||
i've seen your stare.
|
||
i've taken your soul.
|
||
i've eaten your share.
|
||
i drink from your chalice.
|
||
i lay with your wife.
|
||
i've scorned and destroyed you.
|
||
i've ruined your life.
|
||
i am but a man.
|
||
too simple, too true.
|
||
i am but a man.
|
||
i am but you.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- David A. Cariddi
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
When I upon my deathbed lie
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
When I upon my deathbed lie,
|
||
I invite the rain to fall from sky,
|
||
To drop upon my withered face,
|
||
And soothe like Nature's cold embrace,
|
||
Wash away my blackened fears,
|
||
Cleanse me of the guilt of years,
|
||
While silver streams run from my hands,
|
||
To drip in beauty to the land,
|
||
So silently I'll watch the rain,
|
||
While it rinses clean my pain,
|
||
For in my heart I'll ne'er be clear,
|
||
Until the rain removes my tears.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- David Cariddi
|
||
November 17, 1994
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
Drip
|
||
~~~~
|
||
|
||
Where DID you come from,
|
||
pretty little one?
|
||
Ah, so joyous and angry,
|
||
so sombre and sad!
|
||
Why have you come here?
|
||
What is your name?
|
||
But I don't care,
|
||
it doesn't matter...
|
||
I'll take you anyway.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- David Cariddi
|
||
November 14, 1994
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
Rust
|
||
~~~~
|
||
|
||
Solemnly, I wait among the Rust.
|
||
Someday, the Rust and I will be one.
|
||
Never look at the Rust. Oh no!
|
||
That would be bad, so very bad.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- David Cariddi
|
||
November 14, 1994
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
The Fence
|
||
~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
I
|
||
|
||
As I looked down on you,
|
||
I could see that you were scared.
|
||
"Fear not, sweet," I said,
|
||
and stroked your cheek.
|
||
Then, silently,
|
||
I raise the sword.
|
||
|
||
II
|
||
|
||
Oh, and I thought I could TRUST!
|
||
How wrong I was!
|
||
How very, very, wrong.
|
||
|
||
III
|
||
|
||
Hate me.
|
||
Hate me, I am here
|
||
for you to despise.
|
||
|
||
IV
|
||
|
||
Ah, twist the knife!
|
||
How bloody, how black.
|
||
Yet, strangely comforting...
|
||
|
||
V
|
||
|
||
Do you understand
|
||
what it is that you do?
|
||
Can you comprehend?
|
||
|
||
VI
|
||
|
||
I often think of you
|
||
as my daemon.
|
||
Almost as often as I think of you
|
||
as my angel...
|
||
|
||
VII
|
||
|
||
Did you EVER know me?
|
||
Did you ever REALLY care?
|
||
I hope...
|
||
I hope...
|
||
|
||
VIII
|
||
|
||
Oh, dear sweet one!
|
||
How can you speak?
|
||
How can I cry?
|
||
What can I do?
|
||
|
||
IX
|
||
|
||
Once I loved,
|
||
and once I cried,
|
||
but I'll always hurt,
|
||
and I've already died.
|
||
|
||
X
|
||
|
||
Once there was a maiden faire,
|
||
Flowing streams of perfect hair,
|
||
The beauty looked me in the eye,
|
||
She struck me down, and there I died.
|
||
|
||
XI
|
||
|
||
What's that scar
|
||
across my chest,
|
||
you ask?
|
||
Why, good sir,
|
||
that is the place
|
||
where my heart was.
|
||
|
||
XII
|
||
|
||
Oh my...
|
||
Is that my soul
|
||
sinking in
|
||
the mud?
|
||
|
||
XIII
|
||
|
||
You must think I'm rock.
|
||
Not moving.
|
||
Not moving.
|
||
|
||
XIV
|
||
|
||
Interesting.
|
||
I have never heard
|
||
the sound
|
||
of my heart
|
||
smashed on the
|
||
ground before.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- David Cariddi
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
|
||
|
||
Journeys
|
||
~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
All journeys begin
|
||
When we step out our door.
|
||
The scene there
|
||
one we've known
|
||
many a time before.
|
||
|
||
Old friends,
|
||
are the Oak and I.
|
||
It spans majestically
|
||
reaching for the sky.
|
||
As if
|
||
wanting to tickle clouds
|
||
as they flutter by.
|
||
Verdant and lush,
|
||
No king ever able to obtain,
|
||
a carpet
|
||
as luxurious as the earths.
|
||
No decorator
|
||
able to rival the hands
|
||
blending shades
|
||
as those who designed
|
||
earth and sky.
|
||
|
||
Even the people
|
||
all have a face,
|
||
a name,
|
||
a tale to tell.
|
||
|
||
Yet wanderlust
|
||
runs deep.
|
||
Causing to leave
|
||
even such as this
|
||
for the many paths we seek.
|
||
|
||
Some joyous and gay.
|
||
Some morose and full of pain.
|
||
A few,
|
||
remembered thru the years.
|
||
Most forgotten
|
||
the moment our foot
|
||
ceases to trod.
|
||
|
||
We all know
|
||
the steps we've taken,
|
||
the memories they bring.
|
||
In so doing
|
||
Realization:
|
||
We can only move onward.
|
||
|
||
Like all journey's
|
||
eventually do
|
||
we find ourselves
|
||
in a place
|
||
we've been before.
|
||
|
||
The scene we left
|
||
remains.
|
||
|
||
Appearing yet friendly,
|
||
all the while,
|
||
subtle differences
|
||
play across the sky.
|
||
All appears the same.
|
||
Our senses say it just isn't so.
|
||
|
||
Just before the point we break,
|
||
a still,
|
||
small voice is heard,
|
||
"Look again upon that before you
|
||
and know
|
||
My work stands as before.
|
||
It is still the same as yesterday,
|
||
today,
|
||
and forever.
|
||
That which sees thru your eyes,
|
||
this has changed.
|
||
You began your journey
|
||
with an empty palette.
|
||
each step and path
|
||
adding shades, shapes and texture
|
||
with which
|
||
you color
|
||
my world."
|
||
|
||
For this
|
||
I thanked the still,
|
||
small voice
|
||
and went to look again,
|
||
in wonder and awe
|
||
out my front door.
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Earnest Russell
|
||
October 1988
|
||
|
||
============================================================================
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************
|
||
[ POST SCRIPTUM ]
|
||
**************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
It's shift work or shovel cookies....
|
||
|
||
A time, disjointed, when she sat upon a stool, her bare feet
|
||
hooked through the rungs, a brightly beribboned basket upon her lap
|
||
and a cheery smile upon her weathered face. From this vantage she
|
||
could see for several...miles, she supposed one might call them, if
|
||
one were forced to lay units of measure upon the immeasurable. Anyway,
|
||
she could see when the dreamers approached, walking through the knee
|
||
high swirling mists, bringing their various colors along with them,
|
||
wrapped about their shoulders like shawls or dragging through
|
||
vapours behind like childhood's security blankets.
|
||
|
||
"Well come!" she would say, speaking directly to their colors,
|
||
passing faded blue eyes over the wondering faces presented, unseeing
|
||
piercing gazes and worried frowns. "Here's your dance card. The step
|
||
diagrams are part of your foundation. And have a karma cookie, luv.
|
||
You might need to nibble once in a while until you're rid of that
|
||
fleshy thing you've brought along to weigh you down."
|
||
|
||
She ignored perplexed frowns and watched as scattered bits of
|
||
themselves scurried through the mist and caught up, attaching to the
|
||
main body of color or colors with possessive fervor.
|
||
|
||
"You must remember, the nightmares are only reflections from
|
||
within cast upon the great screen without, whispers from the inner ear
|
||
roaring through the cosmos of the overmind."
|
||
|
||
They would go through, seeing lights and hearing sounds beyond her
|
||
perch, tossing uncertainties at her in silent screams and unheard
|
||
laughter.
|
||
|
||
"Shift's over," and a well known voice would be followed
|
||
by the familiar footfall. Regal came her relief, walking slow and
|
||
sure through the clouds of otherworld, carrying her own basket, her
|
||
needlework, which she draped over her arm, and smiling
|
||
brightly as she looked through the portals at those who had so
|
||
recently passed through.
|
||
|
||
"Got some forever dreamers, this day, I see."
|
||
|
||
"And asking for you, too."
|
||
|
||
"Well, then, off to your own dreams, my dear. I've patterns to
|
||
complete and ..." she looked into the basket balanced precariously on
|
||
the older woman's lap. "You've been giving out extra karma
|
||
cookies, again, I see. You'll never advance up the ladder of success
|
||
giving out extra karma cookies. You know the Lords of Karma take that
|
||
extra from *your* supply."
|
||
|
||
The older woman shrugged her shoulders and smiled, misbehaving
|
||
child shining through wrinkles and grey, cotton candy beneath the
|
||
leather. "Tough shit."
|
||
|
||
"Bad! " said the other, mock reprimand and concern on her
|
||
face.
|
||
|
||
"Fuck the Lords of karma if they can't loosen up a little in the
|
||
dream planes, anyway. Old Plots!"
|
||
|
||
"And that's why you've got this job, you know...fucking around
|
||
with the lords of karma."
|
||
|
||
"Well, I'm not sure they put enough nutrients in the damned
|
||
cookies to start with! MoM's recipe was much better. I think I'll
|
||
dream honey into the cookies and then they can watch the blessed bees
|
||
and dream about their own sweet tooth."
|
||
|
||
"Tsk tsk tsk."
|
||
|
||
"Hm." The older woman hopped down for her stool, blew a kiss
|
||
through the air at her friend and skipped off, bandied old legs still
|
||
holding her up, despite the wrath of the lords of karma and
|
||
honeyless cookies. "A tisket a tasket, a green and yellow basket, "
|
||
she sang, trying her best to come up with irreverent obscenities for
|
||
the next line. "I wrote a letter to my love and he used it as a
|
||
gasket." "Pfft!"
|
||
|
||
(continued)
|
||
|
||
|
||
-- Gay Bost, 1994
|
||
|
||
============================================================================
|
||
|
||
+=====================================================================+
|
||
| A New Age: The Centipede Network Of Artists, Poets, & Writers |
|
||
+---------------------------------------------------------------------|
|
||
| - An Informational Journey Into A Creative Echonet [9310] |
|
||
+---------------------------------------------------------------------|
|
||
| (C) CopyRight "I Write, Therefore, I Develop" By Paul Lauda |
|
||
+=====================================================================+
|
||
|
||
Come one, come all! Welcome to Centipede. Established just for
|
||
writers, poets, artists, and anyone who is creative. A place
|
||
for anyone to participate in, to share their poems, and learn
|
||
from all. A place to share *your* dreams, and philosophies.
|
||
Even a chance to be published in a magazine.
|
||
|
||
Centipede offers ten echo areas, such as a general chat area,
|
||
an echo of poetry and literature, and also on dreams and
|
||
speculated history & publishing. In all of the ten conferences,
|
||
anyone is allowed to post their thoughts, and make new friends.
|
||
For that is what CentNet is here for: for you. Ever wonder how
|
||
to accent a poem at the right meter? Well, come join our
|
||
PoetryForum, and everyone would be willing to help you out.
|
||
Have any problems in deciphering your dreams? Select The Dreams
|
||
echo, and you're questions shall be solved.
|
||
|
||
The Network was created on May 16, 1993. I created this because
|
||
there were no other networks dedicated to such an audience.
|
||
And with the help of Klaus Gerken, Centipede soon started to
|
||
grow, and become active on Bulletin Board Systems.
|
||
|
||
I consider Centipede to be a Public Network; however, its a
|
||
specialized network, dealing with any type of creative thinking.
|
||
Therefore, that makes us something quite exotic, since most
|
||
nets are very general and have various topics, not of interest
|
||
to a writer--which is where Centipede steps in! No more fuss.
|
||
A writer can now download the whole network, without phasing
|
||
out any more conferences, since the whole net pertains to
|
||
the writer's interests. This means that Centipede has all
|
||
the active topics that any creative user seeks. And if we
|
||
don't, then one shall be created.
|
||
|
||
If you want to find out more about Centipede, give us a call
|
||
at +609-896-3256, and join one of our conferences. You'll
|
||
not be disappointed! Or, check out the latest info packet
|
||
being distributed in the format: CENTyymm.[ARCHIVE].
|
||
|
||
============================================================================
|
||
|
||
|
||
** ** ******
|
||
** ** **
|
||
[ YGDRASIL INTERNET ]
|
||
**** **
|
||
** **
|
||
** ******
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
RESOURCES
|
||
|
||
The collection of Ygdrasil Press is now available on Internet through
|
||
the World-Wide Web, accessible as "http://www.rdrop.com/~igal/ygdrasil".
|
||
This site contains the collections as: 8-bit MS-DOS ASCII text,
|
||
universal 7-bit ASCII, ANSI color graphics, GIF pictures, word-processor
|
||
laid-out files and other goodies. The entire collection can also be
|
||
found accessed by FTP as "ftp://ftp.rdrop.com/pub/users/igal/ygdrasil".
|
||
Each month, the Ygdrasil Magazine is posted to the Usenet newsgroup
|
||
rec.arts.poems.
|
||
|
||
We hope this will give readers a break from having to dial long distance
|
||
and figure out which BBS has Ygdrasil available for them; provide a more
|
||
intimate link to the world outside our beloved Centipede; and increase &
|
||
broaden the audience & coverage of Ygdrasil to better serve the readers.
|
||
|
||
E-MAIL USER'S GUIDE TO YGDRASIL
|
||
|
||
Any person that can access Internet e-mail (ie. FidoNet, Prodigy, AOL)
|
||
can access Ygdrasil's online resources. To get a E-MAIL USER'S GUIDE TO
|
||
YGDRASIL GUIDE, send e-mail to the Internet address
|
||
"listproc@www0.cern.ch" (if you don't know how to send Internet e-mail,
|
||
please ask your system administrator for instructions). In the message,
|
||
leave the subject line blank, and in the body enter two lines into the
|
||
message: "www http://www.rdrop.com/~igal/ygdrasil/wwwmail.html" and on
|
||
the second line "quit". The Guide will be waiting in your e-mailbox
|
||
within a day. NOTE: CASE IS SIGNIFICANT - "www" is not the same as
|
||
"WWW"; if you don't type it the exactly same way, your request will
|
||
fail.
|
||
|
||
COMMENTS
|
||
|
||
Klaus Gerken, Chief Editor - for general messages and ASCII text
|
||
submissions. Use Klaus' address for commentary on Ygdrasil and its
|
||
contents:
|
||
Internet: klaus.gerken@bbs.synapse.net
|
||
Fidonet: Klaus Gerken, 1:266/56
|
||
|
||
Igal Koshevoy, Production Editor and Web Coordinator - for submissions
|
||
of anything that's not plain ASCII text (ie. archives, GIFs,
|
||
wordprocessored files) in any standard Unix & MS-DOS way, and Web
|
||
specific messages. Use Igal's e-mail address for commentary on
|
||
Ygdrasil's format, distribution, usability and access; or you may send
|
||
files via FTP to "ftp.rdrop.com/pub/users/igal/ygdrasil/uploads". Igal's
|
||
PGP key is available on request to ensure privacy of transaction.
|
||
Internet: igal@agora.rdrop.com
|
||
Fidonet: Igal Koshevoy, 1:105/290
|
||
|
||
We'd love to hear from you!
|
||
|
||
============================================================================
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************
|
||
[ YGDRASIL PUBLICATIONS LIST ]
|
||
**************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
THE WIZARD EXPLODED SONGBOOK (1969), songs by KJ Gerken
|
||
FULL BLACK Q (1975), a poem by KJ Gerken
|
||
ONE NEW FLASH OF LIGHT (1976), a play by KJ Gerken
|
||
THE BLACKED-OUT MIRROR (1979) a poem by Klaus J. Gerken
|
||
THE BREAKING OF DESIRE (1986), poems by KJ Gerken
|
||
FURTHER SONGS (1986), songs by KJ Gerken
|
||
POEMS OF DESTRUCTION (1988), poems by KJ Gerken
|
||
DIAMOND DOGS (1992), poems by KJ Gerken
|
||
KILLING FIELDS (1992), a poem by KJ Gerken
|
||
THE AFFLICTED, a poem by KJ Gerken
|
||
FRAGMENTS OF A BRIEF ENCOUNTER, poems by KJ Gerken
|
||
|
||
MZ-DMZ (1988), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
DARK SIDE (1991), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
STEEL REIGNS & STILL RAINS (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
BLATANT VANITY (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
ALIENATION OF AFFECTION (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
LIVING LIFE AT FACE VALUE (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
HATRED BLURRED (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
CHOKING ON THE ASHES OF A RUNAWAY (1993), ramblings by I. Koshevoy
|
||
BORROWED FEELINGS BUYING TIME (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
HARD ACT TO SWALLOW (1994), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
HALL OF MIRRORS (1994), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
ARTIFICIAL BUOYANCY (1994), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy
|
||
|
||
THE POETRY OF PEDRO SENA, poems by Pedro Sena
|
||
THE FILM REVIEWS, by Pedro Sena
|
||
THE SHORT STORIES, by Pedro Sena
|
||
INCANTATIONS, by Pedro Sena
|
||
|
||
POEMS (1970), poems by Franz Zorn
|
||
|
||
All books are on disk and cost $5.00 each. Checks should be made out to the
|
||
respective authors and orders will be forwarded by Ygdrasil Press.
|
||
|
||
YGDRASIL MAGAZINE may also be ordered from the same address: $2.50 an
|
||
issue to cover disk and mailing costs, also specify computer type (IBM or
|
||
Mac), as well as disk size and density. Allow 2 weeks for delivery.
|
||
|
||
Note that YGDRASIL MAGAZINE is free when downloaded from Revision Systems
|
||
BBS (1-609-896-3256) or any other participating BBS. Revisions, though,
|
||
holds the official version of Ygdrasil.
|
||
|
||
============================================================================
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************
|
||
[ COPYRIGHT INFORMATION ]
|
||
**************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
All poems copyrighted by their respective authors. Any reproduction of
|
||
these poems, without the express written permission of the authors, is
|
||
prohibited.
|
||
|
||
YGDRASIL: A Journal of the Poetic Arts - Copyright (c) 1993, 1994 and 1995
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by Klaus J. Gerken.
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The official version of this magazine is posted on Revision Systems BBS:
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No other version shall be deemed "authorized" unless downloaded from
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there.
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All checks should be made out to: YGDRASIL PRESS
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Information requests, subscriptions, suggestions, comments, submissions or
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anything else appropriate should be addressed, with a self addressed
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stamped envelope, to:
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+----------------------------+
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| YGDRASIL PRESS *** |
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| 1001-257 LISGAR ST. |
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| OTTAWA, ONTARIO |
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| CANADA, K2P 0C7 |
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+----------------------------+
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============================================================================
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