Like the First Night We Met

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The first night we met
you weren't real
you were only
were only. . . only
impulse,
ecstatic electronic impulse
vibrating in tiny sparks,
colored sparks:
a blue
like a blue bandanna
tied to a white dog
in a snow storm,
blue like nothing else
is color,
but blue, blue blue.
Jagged blue sparks,
impulse,
only impulse.
The first night we met
you weren't real,
the first night,
the blue night
you weren't real
you aren't real,
impulse. . . blue.

Type your name
slowly,
let the vowels
wrap around me,
let your silence
surround me
and let me wonder,
let me remember
the night,
the first night we met.
Are you. . . blue
impulse . . . real?

Scream out loud,
let me hear your voice,
let it echo
again and again.
Speak your name
slowly
blue.
Damn you,
you aren't real.
Just like the first night
we met.

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5 Comments
MyNecroticSnailMyNecroticSnailabout 17 years ago
I disagree

there is something about this repetition and return to the blue that give it a strengh, that it would lack if parsed.

KOLKOREKOLKOREabout 17 years ago
BTW - NON EROTIC?

BTW, I forgot to mention. How could you call the first, I believe eighteen lines non - erotic? Or the whole poem for that matter?

KOLKOREKOLKOREabout 17 years ago
Could have furnished three “kick-ass” poems

I could see the metaphors streaming to your mind from different semantic fields, and you have to decide: do I choose do I put them all together, will they hang together (so to speak), do I edit out some. You opted for the former; I somehow came with a feeling of mixed metaphors. Each was evocative, no doubt. The auditory channel -screams and silence and t he visual channel of course. The allusion to the elements of written language - all struggling to capture in different ways the same thing for a short poem I felt. a bit thrown around. With your richness, it could have been a basis, as Wicked Eve put it, to a three “kick - ass” separate, maybe each stronger poems.

AmyfriendAmyfriendabout 17 years ago
::

those damn blue sparks...discharging..discharging into the night

WickedEveWickedEveover 17 years ago
hi :)

reduce the poem down to this and you'll have a much improved (and kick-ass) poem:

The first night we met

you weren't real

you were only

impulse,

ecstatic electronic impulse

vibrating in tiny sparks,

colored sparks:

a blue

like a blue bandanna

tied to a white dog

in a snow storm,

blue like nothing else

is color,

but blue, blue blue.

Jagged blue sparks,

impulse,

only impulse.

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