untitled

In the beginning—the wound is invisible
Time moves—like sickly skeleton
The pain—remains by its elusiveness
With no interpretation—without possibility
A visceral grid—of nameless natural cruelty
With mysterious happiness—inbound and diffused

Reviews

[cilla]

I've come back to this poem many times � and even though you and Pax fluently speak a language I am only beginning to learn � I keep seeing three poems here �

One �

In the beginning-the wound is invisible
Time moves-like sickly skeleton
The pain-remains by its elusiveness
With no interpretation-without possibility
A visceral grid-of nameless natural cruelty
With mysterious happiness-inbound and diffused

Two �

In the beginning
Time moves
The pain
With no interpretation
A visceral grid
With mysterious happiness

Three �

the wound is invisible
like sickly skeleton
remains by its elusiveness
without possibility
of nameless natural cruelty
inbound and diffused

I may be way off but moving from bold to regular font seemed to naturally divide the poem � if that was your intent. If it wasn't � well � however one chooses to read this, it is a very interesting piece. Kudos to you.

[fallen_sueanne]

Good job, I liked this :)

[Pax Analog]

Strangely nuanced flickering of alien Eve's adventure in a human body, Gnostic torment, enigmatic pleasure.

Barest hint of S & M instincts suffused w/shamanic paradox.

The poem itself, w/barely discernible contrast between bold and reg. font, reads like an oscillating current of materialization. One imagines an eerie mating scene whereby alien Eve's body flickers on and off, shifts temporic-spatial positions randomly, stunning a would-be ardent swain.

As realistically mysterious as synaptic sizzles and pops.