From b1ea729d8c82a027285b4afa806c586d7216e7d3 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Case Duckworth Date: Mon, 20 Apr 2015 12:57:31 -0700 Subject: Move WIP to text/ --- wip/angeltoabraham.txt | 13 ------------- wip/apollo11.txt | 16 ---------------- wip/ars-words-meaning__.txt | 9 --------- wip/big-dipper.txt | 16 ---------------- wip/deathstrumpet.txt | 35 ----------------------------------- wip/i-am.txt | 26 -------------------------- wip/i-am2.txt | 11 ----------- wip/moongone.txt | 6 ------ 8 files changed, 132 deletions(-) delete mode 100644 wip/angeltoabraham.txt delete mode 100644 wip/apollo11.txt delete mode 100644 wip/ars-words-meaning__.txt delete mode 100644 wip/big-dipper.txt delete mode 100644 wip/deathstrumpet.txt delete mode 100644 wip/i-am.txt delete mode 100644 wip/i-am2.txt delete mode 100644 wip/moongone.txt (limited to 'wip') diff --git a/wip/angeltoabraham.txt b/wip/angeltoabraham.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ab1f17e..0000000 --- a/wip/angeltoabraham.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13 +0,0 @@ -Abraham, Abraham, you are old and cannot hear -my small voice under the creaking of your grief. -Your eyes are dim and connot see the ram -as it creates itself from the bush, fashioning -its horns from brambles, its wool from leaves, -its hooves from the rock of the mountain. - -Your hand is shaky, but it is sure to its goal. -The knife is blunt but not blunt enough. - -I am here to stay your hand, to blunt -the knife, to bring the ram out from itself -so that it can realize its purpose diff --git a/wip/apollo11.txt b/wip/apollo11.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5c6ef3c..0000000 --- a/wip/apollo11.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16 +0,0 @@ -So it's the fucking moon. Big deal. As if -you haven't seen it before, tacked to the sky -like a piece of rotten meat, or a maudlin - -love letter (the _i_'s dotted neatly with hearts) -on the sky's door like the ninety-eight theses. - -Don't stare at it like it means anything. -Don't give it the chance to collect meaning -from your outstretched hand, like an old pigeon. - -Don't dare ascribe it a will, or call it fickle, -or think it has any say in your affairs. - -It's separated from you by three hundred and eighty -thousand miles of empty space, diff --git a/wip/ars-words-meaning__.txt b/wip/ars-words-meaning__.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 27177d0..0000000 --- a/wip/ars-words-meaning__.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9 +0,0 @@ -_How astonishing it is that language can almost mean, - but frightening that it does not quite._ -_A word is elegy to what it signifies._ - -The world is somewhat large and unwieldy. -This is something I think we can all agree on. -And although we may be unwieldy, knocking around semi-anonymously between our work and our families, between eating and sleeping, between the bigness that surrounds us on both sides like a tall hedge wall, we are by no means large. -This is something else we can agree on, if we're honest with ourselves. - diff --git a/wip/big-dipper.txt b/wip/big-dipper.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 095e665..0000000 --- a/wip/big-dipper.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16 +0,0 @@ -I didn't see it for days, or even months. -I lost track after a while how long it was. -Then one night, there it was, reclining -on the mountains as if they were a couch. -_I missed you_, I said, but it didn't hear -or it pretended not to, I don't know which. -I thought it was looking right at me, but -it could've been staring over my shoulder -at something glinting. I guess I have to try -harder, try something different. I'm going -to sing to it, bring it flowers every night, -something white to brighten up my hands. - -Years later, when I've won it back, when -it shows itself to me without asking, I'll - diff --git a/wip/deathstrumpet.txt b/wip/deathstrumpet.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ab901ff..0000000 --- a/wip/deathstrumpet.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,35 +0,0 @@ -| He didn't have any polish so he spit-shined the whole thing -| until it gleamed like a [tomato on the vine][] that was begging -| to be picked and thrown on some caprese. Death loved caprese. - -| He stood up to put the horn to his lips, trying to imagine -| it was a woman he loved. He blushed as he realized how bad -| [the metaphor was][]. He practiced anyway for six hours a day -| in front of the mirror---what else to do with all the time? - -| Death looked at [himself in the mirror][] as he played, the trumpet -| suspended in midair. _Damn vampire rules_, he thought. -| He was always worried he might have [missed a spot][] while shaving -| but he'd never know unless a stranger---he had no friends--- -| was kind enough. Not that he goes out anyway or meets people. - -| He started waking up late, staying in bed later. -| He started thinking he was depressed. He never did eat -| that caprese, and it started getting soggy, green spots -| spreading on the mozzarella like bedsores. The sun -| filtered through the [kitchen blinds like smoke][]. He had -| to get out of the house. He decided to go to the arcade. - -| When he got there, it was empty except for a boy -| [with dead eyes][]. So far so good, Death thought. -| He was playing a first-person shooter, something violent. -| Death walked past him and watched out of the corner -| of his eye. The kid was good. Death decided -| to congratulate him. He had his trumpet in his hand. - -[himself in the mirror]: moongone.html -[with dead eyes]: big-dipper.html -[tomato on the vine]: wallpaper.html -[the metaphor was]: leaf.html -[missed a spot]: january.html -[kitchen blinds like smoke]: what-we-are-made-of.html diff --git a/wip/i-am.txt b/wip/i-am.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f4727a9..0000000 --- a/wip/i-am.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,26 +0,0 @@ -I am a great pillar of white smoke. -I am Lot's nameless wife turned to salt. - -I am the wound on Christ's back as he moans -with the pounding of a hammer on his wrist. - -I am the nail that holds his house together, -the long nail in his right wrist that points - -toward heaven. I am that nail and I am -the builder of the house, a strong house - -with a sound foundation. I am not the only -one who lives here. I am the god of - -a race of dust mites who build monuments -in my honor every day in the small dark - -corners of my house. I destroy each one -before I sleep each night. Every morning - -there are still more. I am unaware where -all of them are. There are too many. - -I am a god without a name in an empty house. -I am an open wound festering in the white sun. diff --git a/wip/i-am2.txt b/wip/i-am2.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0a8ae81..0000000 --- a/wip/i-am2.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11 +0,0 @@ -I am a great pillar of white smoke. -I am Lot's nameless wife encased in salt. - -I am the wound on Christ's wrist groaning -under the repeated weight of a hammer. - -I am the nail in the wound that points -toward heaven. I am the nail that holds - -his kingdom together around my cold -thin body. diff --git a/wip/moongone.txt b/wip/moongone.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9168ff0..0000000 --- a/wip/moongone.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6 +0,0 @@ -The moon is gone and in its place a mirror. -Looking at the night sky, the viewer sees only his own face as viewed from far away, surrounded by a vague landscape of mountains, the plain he's standing on, a river. -He sees he is alone in the wilderness. -He wonders in being alone. - -But behind him, the viewer sees a pursuer. -- cgit 1.4.1-21-gabe81