I feel sometimes as if I’m reading something not written for me, but for a specific person. I’m not sure why... It’s a very strong position to take, don’t give my mother my phone number (my mother happens to be dead). The resolution is filled with tension--no resolution really. The poem has been pressurized with conflict with a shift to risk-free interactions, celery, etc. I sense powerful emotions. That’s big.
It’s not written for you. It wasn’t even written for me really ... but I get a lot of judgement from my mother and little else. I just wish she didn’t have my phone number. 🙂
That’s sort of what I thought. I suspected there was something beyond the dysfunction; the last line ups the ante to a question of purpose (bare survival). That’s a horrible place to be. I guess I couldn’t tell who the ‘your’ is, as in ‘your mother.’ It actually means ‘my mother.’ It may be my obtuseness.
I feel sometimes as if I’m reading something not written for me, but for a specific person. I’m not sure why... It’s a very strong position to take, don’t give my mother my phone number (my mother happens to be dead). The resolution is filled with tension--no resolution really. The poem has been pressurized with conflict with a shift to risk-free interactions, celery, etc. I sense powerful emotions. That’s big.
It’s not written for you. It wasn’t even written for me really ... but I get a lot of judgement from my mother and little else. I just wish she didn’t have my phone number. 🙂
That’s sort of what I thought. I suspected there was something beyond the dysfunction; the last line ups the ante to a question of purpose (bare survival). That’s a horrible place to be. I guess I couldn’t tell who the ‘your’ is, as in ‘your mother.’ It actually means ‘my mother.’ It may be my obtuseness.