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Why I Am Not A Painter

            A l l   C o n t e n t     ©2005-2021           E m i l i e  H a n s o n            e-mail             twitter                Minneapolis, MN               links & archives

            a pile of mostly raw and probably bad poetry

            on the internet
            in the hopes of creating something better

            This blog is not CLEAN and is not meant to be.
            Useful critique appreciated, i.e. specific comments and suggestions.

            You need not identify yourself unless you want to;
            comments will be judged on value, not the source. (Although knowing the source can be useful.)
            Unsupported heckling OR praise are not appreciated.

            Also, I vaguely apologize if you're my friend and you see yourself or others we know here.
            I am aware that that can be unsettling
            but that's the risk you run being friends with a writer. Also,
            maybe you're just being paranoid. Also,
            there is never a clear picture of reality

 

love a poem emilie january 6 2007 draft one.one

sentence fragment, because
it is hard to say so
in whichever might be the right
way. night and underwear and cover
the warm cotton something
there is something
underneath something else.

here is a portrait of noodles
& co. 1 2 3 4 5 6 roma tomato
7 chipotle 8 9 10 11 12
let's split a meal or 2 meals

bicycle paths are nice
they are out of the way but at the same time only
go the one place you know
about going to. you know where to go.

there are these times when we kiss
and i imagine something i saw on television,
when one person is sucking the life force out of
someone else, naked in a shower or related
to harry potter

i almost ride on the pedestrian
half of the shared roadway
because every woman says softly
on your right
on your right
look out

hyperventilate slowly placing
every tear on a shelf and shoving
air from the surrounding area
into all the open parts of girls

when we are not wearing the things
the comfortable things which are comfortable to wear
and beside each other, we open our mouths
like birds might if birds wore sweaters but forgot them

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