Laura, I'm not the compositionist that Deb is. I just know that I liked your articles. They were informative, laid out nicely point-by-point (very easy to follow) and humorous. I had to do a double take on that first one, also, with all the document management being thrown around. I had to stop and say "wait", "huh?", "oh." It was harder to get into the article, but it was still interesting.
Also, gotta say I'm loving this challenge. It's bringing all kinds of interesting thoughts/insights/emotions into play and all very intense. So, I wrote another one. This time, it came out in the form of a po'm (just for you Pennsylvanians.) It needed a little looser form.
Take My Hand
On the one hand
is everything I love,
Not limited to the
finite of the mind
That counts it out
just so; that one
Might say, “I have
more than you.”
The other hand is
grasping; like a
Starfish looking for
lunch—let me
Take what’s yours
so I may have more.
What’s more is less
when one walks
The moebius strip
of heart and soul;
There is no side
to take, you
Can have it all.
I walked that path
from end to end
And called it Hell
to be walking forever;
I stopped to give my
hand—Heaven.
edited to play with the formatting
Compositionist? Me? Huh.
Sail, that was exquisite.
Heh, I hope all my afterthought editting didn't make it too hard to read. I wasn't sure how to indent and what I ended up doing worked, but still didn't do quite what I wanted.
Oh Sail. I would love a copy of that.
t blinks.
I'm honored. It's prettier in Word. Would you like me to e-mail it to you?
Please do. Profile addy good.
Thanks Sail.
Also, not at all hard to read, in fact quite a pleasure.
They say that love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Janus, that two-faced bitch, just likes to keep things interesting. My bed is a shrine to Janus, and I lay on the altar every night, listening to that coin roll on the tabletop, wondering which side it will fall on -- heaven or hell?
There are nights when I slip into bed, and when my head hits the pillow, the residue of last night's dreams puff up like dust and suck me into that otherworld where I fly, I float, I fuck without compunction, without rules, without limit.
I long for that world, and on those other nights, the night when Janus rules against me, I lay stretched out, burning-eyed and waiting, on the altar.
I lay myself in sacrifice to Morpheus, but Janus will have his due.
