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| author | Case Duckworth | 2015-04-04 23:58:22 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Case Duckworth | 2015-04-04 23:58:22 -0700 |
| commit | 529ede146afd125c76d86eb55969983af8ee21db (patch) | |
| tree | f80e532dbcfade4a2dee5e3d122a5bc2d623622e /100-lines.txt | |
| parent | Add backlinks to backlinks (diff) | |
| download | autocento-529ede146afd125c76d86eb55969983af8ee21db.tar.gz autocento-529ede146afd125c76d86eb55969983af8ee21db.zip | |
Some revision & TOC inclusion
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| -rw-r--r-- | 100-lines.txt | 126 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 126 deletions
| diff --git a/100-lines.txt b/100-lines.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e16a5aa..0000000 --- a/100-lines.txt +++ /dev/null | |||
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| 1 | --- | ||
| 2 | title: 100 lines | ||
| 3 | id: 100-lines | ||
| 4 | genre: verse | ||
| 5 | |||
| 6 | project: | ||
| 7 | title: Autocento of the breakfast table | ||
| 8 | class: autocento | ||
| 9 | ... | ||
| 10 | |||
| 11 | | Whenever you call me friend | ||
| 12 | | I fall down on my knees and cry | ||
| 13 | | because I know it's the only thing | ||
| 14 | | never to happen before in this | ||
| 15 | | life is something you can't see | ||
| 16 | | it's a pillow under a [hook shot][] | ||
| 17 | | [I want to tell you something anything][tell-you] | ||
| 18 | | but you are there and I am here | ||
| 19 | | we are [trapped inside ourselves][trapped] | ||
| 20 | | and the distance is too far | ||
| 21 | | you are something that I would tell | ||
| 22 | | [would be nothing][] before too long | ||
| 23 | | you are not the finisher of dreams | ||
| 24 | | you are the beginning of [nightmares][] | ||
| 25 | | or waking but I'm not sure which | ||
| 26 | | this [letter is for you][] in the future | ||
| 27 | | it will lead you on the path | ||
| 28 | | of goodness or of rightness or of | ||
| 29 | | wrong people and right meanings | ||
| 30 | | or the meaning will be hidden | ||
| 31 | | or wrestling the demon I will have become | ||
| 32 | | restless under the starlight | ||
| 33 | | it's too bright here to think | ||
| 34 | | the negatives would be pitch black | ||
| 35 | | darkness of a silver mine | ||
| 36 | | there are [no trees][] here | ||
| 37 | | where have you been where are you now | ||
| 38 | | I am no longer here or there | ||
| 39 | | you are anywhere or are you | ||
| 40 | | up in the clouds is a ghost | ||
| 41 | | he is white and blue like a cloud | ||
| 42 | | he paints with his teeth | ||
| 43 | | he paints the rainbow before midnight | ||
| 44 | | that you can see from your window | ||
| 45 | | staring out under the sunlight | ||
| 46 | | through the gauze curtains | ||
| 47 | | [over the high mountain][mountain] far away | ||
| 48 | | that is covered over with snow | ||
| 49 | | past the rivers and forests | ||
| 50 | | that lie awake under Orion | ||
| 51 | | hunting the bull that runs forever | ||
| 52 | | just out of his reach | ||
| 53 | | pointing the way for the two of us | ||
| 54 | | to join together in song or dance | ||
| 55 | | or that other thing and sing | ||
| 56 | | the Grinch down off Mount Crumpet | ||
| 57 | | [his heart breaking his chest][heart] | ||
| 58 | | thumping with the beat | ||
| 59 | | his [little dog too][] running running | ||
| 60 | | with the bull full of laughter and blood | ||
| 61 | | he can't see it anymore because it's become him | ||
| 62 | | we are trapped he says we are | ||
| 63 | | trapped in ourselves it turns out | ||
| 64 | | that all along it wasn't you or me | ||
| 65 | | but he and her or her and him or | ||
| 66 | | he and he or she and she or they | ||
| 67 | | even they tell us that nothing has happened | ||
| 68 | | even they know that it's a big joke | ||
| 69 | | one more thing to know before the death | ||
| 70 | | we are crying like crocodiles | ||
| 71 | | before their loved ones' coffins | ||
| 72 | | we are bellowing with grief like buffalo | ||
| 73 | | on a berth of wild oxen | ||
| 74 | | we are wailing our clothes are in rags | ||
| 75 | | [we want][want1] [we want][want2] [we want][want3] | ||
| 76 | | but never can we get | ||
| 77 | | what is it | ||
| 78 | | we don't know what it is | ||
| 79 | | but it's something it's anything | ||
| 80 | | it's too many people or not enough | ||
| 81 | | it's too few trees we need more | ||
| 82 | | beavers to build riverdams we need | ||
| 83 | | grapes too or [plums][] from the ice box | ||
| 84 | | or an ice box even would be nice | ||
| 85 | | all I have is this cube isn't that right | ||
| 86 | | or is a sphere a cube a donut a coffee | ||
| 87 | | cup your hands in mine yes that's right | ||
| 88 | | now bring the water to your face | ||
| 89 | | clear and cool and | ||
| 90 | | full of something | ||
| 91 | | what is it wanting | ||
| 92 | | or yearning | ||
| 93 | | I can see in your eyes they're clear now | ||
| 94 | | they are as clear as a running stream | ||
| 95 | | or the sky that's clear right | ||
| 96 | | or the water that is in the Bahamas | ||
| 97 | | because I hear that's clear | ||
| 98 | | you're as clear as the sound of a bell | ||
| 99 | | you're as clear as the [braying of horses][] | ||
| 100 | | you're as clear as the glass in God's eye | ||
| 101 | | and I | ||
| 102 | | I'm as dull as an ox plowing | ||
| 103 | | [through fields in his yoke][yoke] | ||
| 104 | | I'm as dull as clouded amber | ||
| 105 | | I'm dull as you find me | ||
| 106 | | tonight after dinner | ||
| 107 | | I'm reading the crossword | ||
| 108 | | you're sitting beside me | ||
| 109 | | you're watching TV. | ||
| 110 | |||
| 111 | [hook shot]: theoceanoverflowswithcamels.html | ||
| 112 | [tell-you]: lovesong.html | ||
| 113 | [trapped]: howtoread.html | ||
| 114 | [would be nothing]: no-nothing.html | ||
| 115 | [nightmares]: in-bed.html | ||
| 116 | [letter is for you]: poetry-time.html | ||
| 117 | [no trees]: plant.html | ||
| 118 | [mountain]: mountain.html | ||
| 119 | [heart]: moon-drowning.html | ||
| 120 | [little dog too]: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUpxmlZ2hyM | ||
| 121 | [want1]: i-wanted-to-tell-you-something.html | ||
| 122 | [want2]: fire.html | ||
| 123 | [want3]: lovesong.html | ||
| 124 | [plums]: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/245576 | ||
| 125 | [braying of horses]: table_contents.html | ||
| 126 | [yoke]: last-passenger.html | ||