June 17, 2006
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No Name Rough Draft
The last ride
On the the light curve
Into night's known places
Flashes on traces
Of my young faces,
Index of metamorphoses
Under my Cover Girl,
Pentimento,
Showing through.
The last ticket handed over,
I curl underneath the beam,
My face an old book
With broken dictionaries,
Telling stories
I don't understand.
pearlbamboo
copyright e.p.hodges
Comments (4)
I hope you got my e-mail. We cancelled the get-together, so don't show up. Okay? Let me know if you got this message. E-mail is fine. I sure hope you get the message.
Lynn
a sneak peek into that feminine mystique
Love the poem!!
I like the last three lines the best, perhaps - more even than the emotion and the words, the rhythm is what gets me here. Maybe it's your drum work
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