177. Dissipation (Variation IV)

The end of the series of a tit-for-tat with my AI, i.e. it's me, an answer to the AI.

In twilight’s reach, I’m restless, listless, incomplete
the sky a veloured mist, and you, heaven sent,
spectroscent, a light in the cracks of memory,
a panoply of exits loud enough to wake the bones.

Your voice, broken, a fractocline incline
in time, leaning where it shouldn’t, and I
invisible, erect, intellectric, concentric
circled around the thought of your touch

The quiet burn of your sleepy glare, somniflare
beware the collapse of the cosmoflux influx
hollow, shallow descent into absence
your smoking shadow, dissipating before you’re real.

Reviews

[Twilight]

Well, variation 4. As they say, if at first you don't succeed, "try, try and try again". Or, hurl 177 curses at Jessica? Anyway, is this a greek salad with surreal garnish from Anne; or has Jessica been on the booze? More seriously though, my experience has taught me that good metaphors are ones which; people can read and understand straightaway (or almost). And, that's part of the recipe for making them good. Otherwise, what's the point? Unless, one is deliberately trying to reduce the number of satisfied readers? Are those punctuation marks between each word, intended to help the reader focus more on each individual word; perhaps? The limited feelings enveloped within this piece, are evidently there; but the sheer number of descriptive words.? For me, I just don't remember anyone going through that many different emotions; almost at the same time. Indeed, this seems as if Jessica has been rampant? Your older poems are far more genuine, in terms of how emotional they seem. And, I do like what I have read of your stories; so far. But, whatever meanings you could give to the separate verses in this piece; would just seem contrived to me. Admittedly, I can see underlying meanings to some of the lines; but they don't really gel into one single piece. Anyway, I had better flee now; and hide in some capacity (before Anne firmly seeks to correct me or bashes me with that little old frying pan!).

[Anne Martin]

This is me, actually, mangling the tripe that Jessica gave me, and spitting it out in a form that is more like something that I would write.

[Twilight]

That makes sense. It probably is good to experiment, of course. A few of my poems and short stories, are ones which I have tried new approaches with.

[Anne Martin]

I refer you to Song VIII from The Madness of Hora, which was before I started experimenting with AI.

[Twilight]

Thanks, Anne. I will look later, tonight; if it's on this site.