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The Web Poetry Corner

Ann Chandler


Hartford, CT, US

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Ann Chandler

Needless to say, I think we all need less to say, since mind takes over voice, takes over length, that stretches and circles, what goes around comes around to the last sound set for begining, for ending, into nothing, rushing in and out of mouth to lower regions, to lower meanings of self, of body, and I'm not listening to his philosophy, his curiosity on a meaningless subject, merging into lessons and sayings, so I'm near the end, nearing water, bordering teh edge to test my acts, so let me uncover my underneath, my underside, where we'll all being kept here to die, but I'm alive, prime, so I'm going to stop reapeating. . .

You know where to find me if you need me. Up, close, personal, hiding behing the first line.

This is . . .


Ann Chandler

Independently traveling through a range of voices, out into space an time, infinetly moving and soothing planets that come our way and making way for new things and more things that make equations equating our relativity is my honesty and my density, forgetting to stop at all the signs, and I'm beggining to understand the question like it was something important, like testing words and men's might, and I'm showing my true colors, you know, Like the song, the sweet song, the immovable song, from all those Kodak commercials, that say that suggest the picture can speak a thousand words, and this serves what purpose? And the service it propels to all these people, these tiny careless people, who step on me, and use my mouth for importance of frame and figure. Get me a pen up here, so I can move words up here, where no light passes through. My standing stood still, weak, ill-centered, falling to ground, hoping to dig up these nouns. So go and put ear to floor it's where all the sounds have gone hiding, multiplying, and I never got a chance to finish my sentence. . .

This is my independence.