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There is nothing I cannot say without lapsing into a gaping mouth. I would kill for your gift. Simple enough?

Ken
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Ken Wolman			http://awfulrowing.wordpress.com/	

"All writers are hunters, and parents are the most available prey."
--Francine du Plessix Gray

On Dec 14, 2010, at 9:50 PM, sharon brogan wrote:

> From a prompt:  <http://bigtentpoetry.org/2010/12/monday-prompt-december-13/
>> 
> 
> " ... Marvin Bell <http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/387> and his Dead
> Man Poetry ...
> ...
> 
> "The form is comprised of two sections. One is titled “The Dead Man and …”
> and the second “More About the Dead Man and … .” All lines are written as
> sentence lines and enjambment matters quite a bit. The first two lines
> generally turn back on each other. The two versions seem to discover or
> expose different things about the Dead Man, one more internal in nature, the
> other external."
> 
> 
> ***************
> 
> 1. The Dead Woman and Sex
> 
> The dead woman is thinking about sex.
> Its renowned generative power, the excitement of being alive.
> She remembers that orgasm is called the little death.
> She thinks about anatomy, and how hers is dissipating.
> She is fucking the universe.
> She is melting, melting.
> She is using her material self to make new things.
> She is generating the future.
> The dead woman knows the taste of ashes, the dryness in the mouth.
> Her hands bleed from gardening, from the rough embrace of roses.
> The dead woman remembers ice cream, tuna fish, the feel of a cat’s fur.
> She is becoming those things.
> 
> 
> 2. More About The Dead Woman and Sex
> 
> She is thinking about you, the dead woman is.
> She is thinking about the hands that touched her diminishing body, and the
> hands that wanted to.
> She is thinking about the living bodies she wanted to touch, when she was
> alive, and those she did.
> She remembers how her breasts fell to her sides when she lay down on her
> back.
> She is lying down now.
> Her breasts are falling.
> The dead woman believes you, but she doubts the others.
> The dead woman is tired from waiting.
> Why is the dead woman still here?
> There is the door; why doesn’t she go through?
> All of her rub up against each other.
> That is the sound you hear, that whispering.