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Still-born,
wayworn;
futures
pasts
alternatives
forlorn.

Time wrapped around itself like the core of a conchshell
like gushing waves piercing the shore.
Flesh quivers
Uncharted rivers
flooding the underground
of this land
that shook beneath our feet
in altered sensualities.

The last spasms of matter
yearning for deliverance.
The spiral
broken into circles.

------
Stille


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The following comments are for "Ouroboros"
by Dew Of Blood

Tail devourer
I liked the way this poem moves.

Uncharted rivers
flooding the underground
of this land
that shook beneath our feet
in altered sensualities.

The last spasms of matter
yearning for deliverance.
The spiral
broken into circles

Those lines, however, were the icing on the tail. Beautifully and poignantly spoken.

( Posted by: chinadoll [Member] On: September 6, 2006 )





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