Daily Literature Deviations for October 28th, 2013

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Daily Lit Deviations for October 28th, 2013


We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
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Poetry


Featured by: spoems
Enemies of Bliss by carriezona
Enemies of Bliss by carriezona

From the depths of Nietzsche's Zarathustra
parable, the poet plumbs a sobering truth.



Suggested by: doughboycafe
Featured by: SilverInkblot


gossamer, and yousome people
(the lucky ones)
get songs stuck in their heads.
i, on the other hand,
am left with words
that beat incessantly against
the confines of my brain.
last week, it was "gossamer."
i thought it was whimsical;
that was pleasant.
i saw the word
every which way i turned:
       a gossamer veil of sunlight,
       a silk shirt like gossamer,
       a spider hanging by a thread of it.
i hate the word now,
with all its whimsy washed away;
the hard g is too harsh and garish
against the roof of my mouth,
the double s too serpentine.
it feels numbingly stiff on my tongue,
like some sort of linguistic anomaly,
a could-be word that really shouldn't be.
today, it was your name.
(i never thought
proper nouns counted, but
evidently, they do.)
i didn't see you as much as i heard you,
somewhere,
in the whistling of the breeze
or the creaking of the hardwood floors.
your imposing yet warm presence
hovered somewhere
near the nape of my neck.
i admit that somewhere
in the recesses of my mind,
i ho

gossamer, and you by escap-ing

Says the Suggester:
"This has lovely wordplay."



Featured by: spoems
Celestewe'll kiss hell's palms like
wretched ministers
before we give sermons tonight;
yellowed wayfarers
pacing scaffolds, we long
to wake immaculate -
deceased

Celeste by counting-vertebrae

Cunning abstractions
reveal a fervent wish.


Featured by: spoems
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Road by venturus

A pantheon of deities fan out along the length
of a "Road"; the mythos of a great journey.



Prose


Featured by: SilverInkblot

SwellI am in a hospital, having a baby. I suppose I love children, but shit, I’m having a fuckin’ baby, after being pregnant for a year and a day or maybe longer. I’d expected my belly to be bigger, I think, more than just a shallow rise against the sheets. I anticipated a full swell, high tide. Real pregnancy, not just the suggestion of it.
There is something wrong. With either me or the child (my little womb mate, I say with affection), no one knows. Doctors have hooked me up to monitors, stuck needles into my gangly child’s limbs, taped sensors to my sunken chest. At night, I tear them off in my sleep. The machines beep angrily, jerk me awake. I call for my mother then, but have only the cold hands of faceless (faithless) nurses to soothe me. They tell me I do not have a mother, that Sarah, dear, it’s time to grow up. After all, you’re having a baby.
I spend forever in the hospital and still the baby does not come. I ask a nurse for the date. She tells

Swell by bangingonkeyboards

Dream, or nightmare?
When it's this well written,
it could go either way.





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Prepared by: SilverInkblot
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