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March 30, 2006

In another valley, the root
of nostalgia, even now
from this distance,
flowers open

to pearls of blood,
the heart about to turn
hard, like the knob
of a door left ajar.

Written by Maria Benet, of Alembic.

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  1. March 30, 2006 at 4:00 pm

    This is wonderful. I love all the dual body-flower words you use.

  2. March 30, 2006 at 11:12 pm

    Wow; the feeling of “hard-heartedness” as central to memory, and longing; how we tend to crystallize a place, a person, into a fixed image…


  3. March 31, 2006 at 3:00 pm

    Beautiful, terse, condensed, and intense. Congratulations, Maria.

  4. March 31, 2006 at 8:18 pm

    Wonderful. Perfect word choices, and none too many. Crystalline.

  5. April 1, 2006 at 11:12 pm

    The door left ajar–neither fully opened, nor closed
    as the source of great pain–is so startling and vivid.
    I am always amazed and impressed by poets who use brevity
    like a knife as you do here.

  6. April 2, 2006 at 4:45 pm

    That mysterious opening line keeps making me reread it, round and round, from open door to valley, everything about to turn – taut. I like this poem even better than your last one.

  7. April 3, 2006 at 1:14 pm

    Thank you all for these appreciative comments. I have been so swamped with life (and mostly off-line, too) that I haven’t had a chance to check back here until now.

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