Posted: 20 February 2008 11:19 AM   [ Ignore ]
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Did you like the protagonist?
What was your favorite image in this piece?

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Posted: 20 February 2008 04:09 PM   [ Ignore ]   [ # 1 ]
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The bleeding of colors is my favorite image.  I think they start bleeding when you recognize yourself and your efforts in people younger than you who will last longer, and might pass bits of you on to the future.  The guy who invented the wheel?  He’s still around, sort of, a little, isn’t he?

Your poem made me think about the fact that we are designed - evolved, if you want - to operate with intimate access to a store of episodic memory.  If not for that aspect, waking up in the morning with this body that has been trained to walk and swim and drive and express ideas with words could be very much like a resurrection of anyone we’ve learned a lot about (or even just a little, I suppose), with them using your body now, with their ideas firmly planted in it by your brain’s previous exposure to facts about their life.  Is that bleeding enough?  I’m still Socrates laughing at the Roman tribunal while they hand me the cup of hemlock.  Didn’t I say I’d figure out what death leads to, and they’d be stuck back here, wondering?  Well…, now I know wink

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Posted: 28 February 2008 03:55 AM   [ Ignore ]   [ # 2 ]
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I think it’s the smell of the bleach that gets me,
And the bending over. 

Been there… or if not, you’ve taken me back somewhere.
A great poem.

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