02-27-2021, 06:00 AM
There is a stuck place where Bod Dylan and Ace of Base songs become part of the inner monodialogue, a sleep paralysis of dreams, so then, a death paralysis of thinking about what you're saying and saying it.
Not to mention other sounds like songs.
I know nothing.
All I can talk about is the last line. I know the rest of the poem, that's not what I meant when I said I know nothing. A man or woman writing this poem wouldn't even need to be tempted to write all this hope and no one (here) [they might even be so foolish to add a 'here'] to say no, they'd just do it. The whole meaning of the poem is in the last line. And nobody knows what it is.
Wooly thuds and no echoes. That's a good device. Just as you have ...........over there.
Not to mention other sounds like songs.
I know nothing.
All I can talk about is the last line. I know the rest of the poem, that's not what I meant when I said I know nothing. A man or woman writing this poem wouldn't even need to be tempted to write all this hope and no one (here) [they might even be so foolish to add a 'here'] to say no, they'd just do it. The whole meaning of the poem is in the last line. And nobody knows what it is.
Wooly thuds and no echoes. That's a good device. Just as you have ...........over there.