Thinking you'll take a poetry class in college? As a one-for-one, here's a poem I'm working on:
Each a shell: the beginnings. A curl, a golden spiral, a shape dictated by formula and snail’s spit: the inside pearled and smooth as woman‘s fingernails, the underside molded like an eardrum, or the flap of skin that hangs as a lobe, slightly pinkish, An unfolding from the centre, as some goblin’s unfocused and wandering eye, pointillated and dilated, some paradox, a precise line where new cement attaches to old, expanding outward but ever precise, now without snail, outside edge cracked, as though unable to pull the minerals from the air and assemble itself.
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Each a shell: the beginnings.
A curl, a golden spiral, a shape
dictated by formula and snail’s
spit: the inside pearled and smooth
as woman‘s fingernails, the underside
molded like an eardrum, or the
flap of skin that hangs as a lobe,
slightly pinkish,
An unfolding from the centre,
as some goblin’s unfocused and
wandering eye, pointillated
and dilated, some paradox,
a precise line where new cement
attaches to old, expanding outward
but ever precise, now without snail,
outside edge cracked, as though unable to pull
the minerals from the air
and assemble itself.
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