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Korich Fischer Mar 2013
Staring at the minute hand
For hours waiting on
Night to slur their howls
One in the pack follows the other

A Roland for an Oliver
Come hell or high water
So I revised this poem to be lyrics in a new song I wrote. I think this is a boiled down version of what I want to say. Perhaps it could be longer.
Korich Fischer Mar 2013
Staring at the minute hand,
Waiting for her drowsy marauder
A Roland for an Oliver
To wake in melting ice
Armless, legless,
A looming ellipsis
Echoes and slurs his howls; his speech
Doubts a towel's in reach
Hand-trembling certainty the air's too cold
She agrees simultaneously
Piling their shivering,
Knocking their knees together
It needs some fine tuning. There should be one or two breaks in this poem but I am not sure where to put them and I am curious if the rhyming comes off cliché. I am considering changing the last line to "Knocking out their knees." I would like a little advice and, as always, criticism is always appreciated!
Korich Fischer Feb 2013
Mediums,
I need mediums!
Incomplete mind, bisected by blurs
******* my sight, halting my stare
Corrective action taken?
Turn off heart,
Maneuver hips,
Eyes ajar

Moves made to past
We need to go back
Nakedness without regret
Willing to be the only one that likes me
She screams electronically
Korich Fischer Feb 2013
The natural duo cast a silhouette
Against the earth and on the wall
A brand new continent hovering over
The paper sea
Folding unto itself
Creasing the both to one
Floating in a vase
A place translucent and dark
Holding those dried, pretty things
Korich Fischer Feb 2013
Align shoulders and hips
Musty anamotronics
Can't comprehend
But a clockwork of connected strings makes them
Line up tight and stay
A laboratory basement for lustrous structures,
Watch watching,
Minutemen

Turning back on their eyes
Their rusted shadows rallying
Assembled consciousness
Headed single-file toward their end

Turned back
On their eyes
I've been told that this one is too short and I would love to know if you think that it needs more or not. Thanks!
Korich Fischer Feb 2013
Ingest four hours
Three letters from last
Count two sets of night eyes
Smell the only one with blood in her fingertips
Korich Fischer Feb 2013
doors were once boulders
so much harder to move
turned to fodder
by simply shrugged shoulders
a suspended bend
landing, tumbling through
my shoes
tearing smooth
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