Lathered
by Rae Hallstrom
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
Not rated by the Author.
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I am the granite of dry elbows dragged on flannel,
a porcupine with a cleaver,
a low table that teeters on stilts.
I am burnt toast, embers fuming for no good reason,
the pot that never boils.
You can taste me in the raspberry seeds
sucked from jam into a mouth ulcer,
feel me in the metal spatula of every step in tight underpants,
sense me in the snare drum in the bathroom.
I am not a walk in the park when the sky is blue.
Look for me in a cave of stomach acid,
in the cat stuck in a closet, waking the door,
in a tangle of knots at the edge of hot buttered nerves.
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| Reviewed by Regis Auffray |
3/28/2007 |
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Powerful in imagery and meaning; well done, Rae. Love and peace to you,
Regis |
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| Reviewed by La Belle Rouge (Reader) |
8/28/2003 |
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| Now this is some outstanding imagery. |
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| Reviewed by J. Murphy |
8/28/2003 |
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| This is superb--creative, witty, discriptive. A great escape from the cliches that I have read before this one this morning. Great descriptions of emotions and experiences and feelings mixed together. J. |
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| Reviewed by Bhuwan Thapaliya |
8/28/2003 |
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| Loved this fabulous write!!!! |
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| Reviewed by Nicole Davis Vergara (Reader) |
8/27/2003 |
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Wow, this one says and depicts so very much...very fine work!
~Nikki~ |
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| Reviewed by Katy Walsvik |
8/27/2003 |
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| Wow! This is a hail storm of really interesting and unique expressions.. I didn't just read it.. I could feel it. Pointed and honest, it has focus and complete originality. It sandblasts! You're good!~ katy. |
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| Reviewed by Michael Morash (Reader) |
8/27/2003 |
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| Very nicely done. Brilliant work. |
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