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Click heregrowing
in ever shrinking patterns
lines converge
into occult hand gestures
that once had meaning
There is no question to which of the universe great metaphysical schools the poet of this poem subscribes: clearly, the inevitable atrophy of all that was structured and meaningful in the past. In other words, don't send this one attached to your mothers B.D present or on mother's day... But if anything, I saw here revulsion or at least deep regret from the loss of meaning, not the exurbanite anarchic and experimentalist energy of the Dada. Very effective piece in very few words; the hallmark of Bill.
I like this one -- very elegant -- suggests much in a few words and even more in the spaces between the words
I hate doing this:
growing
in ever shrinking patterns (I have a 50/50 feeling about "ever" here)
lines converge (consider deleting line, I see no other lines)
into occult hand gestures (consider change to "of")
that used to have meaning (agree "once had" here)
One thing bothers me, the one use of contrast growing-shrinking,
I feel the last line, does not quite make it a second contrast, I would like to see a second, it lets every one know you know what you are doing and not shooting for a dollar store profunditiy
An interesting concept.
Have you considered "once had" instead of "used to have" ?