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Mythical Deconstruction

The Mythical Founding Of Buenos Aires, Jorge Luis Borges

"...A cigar store perfumed the desert like a rose.The afternoon had established its yesterdays, and men took on together an illusory past. Only one thing was missing - the street had no other side...."

She was pretty
even without her yellow roses
and stilettos.
When she returned home
the front stairs were missing.
The entire house sagged
like a barracks whore.
Street urchins
leap-frogged over fire hydrant
piss streams; old men squinted
toward the other side of the street.
There was no other side.
The moon was chewed
a silver-blue as soldiers emptied
her last bottle of perfume.

2 Jul 07

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i thought perhaps the rose having no mentioned color and the stilettos a colour might be more interesting. i like your poem.
 — bettalpha

Some fresh word pictures. Especially like the last verse even though I'm not sure what it means.
 — erato

Wow. Very elaborate and richly-detailed setting this displays.

|4; "When she returned home" brings up a lot of questions that I don't enjoy being unanswered. Example: where was she returning home from? How did she return there? Walk, limo, paratroop drop? It could add another strong element to the picture.

Return itself is a vague word that sticks out amid the much more specific verbs and action (chewed/ a silver-blue, hip-hopping in... piss streams, squinting, sagged, etc).

But other than that, I very much enjoyed reading this.
 — Virgil

Interesting comments. Thank you. bettalpha, the flowers represent betrayal, so they'll have to stay yellow.

Virgil, yes. I see exactly what you mean. This is not as easy a fix as it seems to be. I'll want to reflect.
 — banditfemme

i, too, noticed the lack of colouration of the stilettos
whatever that means
i'm glad to see the moon make another appearance
my favourite word here:


i've long had ideas for it but've yet to find time to excavate

nice words
 — chuckles

I like the way you juxtapose the state of the house to the state of the woman, at least that's  how I read it. I like the way you have the old men stare towards the other side of the street when there isn't another side. This poem is very well written. Lines 6-7 are great as is the last stanza. I get a feeling of incompleteness throughout. There's always something else to be, to want, to do and as long as we're conscious of ourselves the stairs will always be missing and something in us will always feel caved in. If there were another side of the street, the people on that side would stare away into the nothingness all the same. Sartre said "man is a useless passion," I think you've done a fair job giving me that feeling.
 — blee73

holy crap i m just happy you quoted sartre!
 — unknown

again, someone saying the stilettos should be a colour;
I say yellow...
I also say whatever, great poem,
loved "there was no other side", damn that's good.
 — jenakajoffer


lovely imagery in the first stanza.
lines 6-7 are just perfect.

i think line 12 comes to early after line 11... seems something amiss there. anyways its the power line in this poem.

i can jus picture line 13 in various ways. so refreshingly original and interesting.
thanks for posting.
 — trochee

 — listen

in so many aspects.

great depth in images. i like how you keep the metaphors switching on and off, alternating i think. for example (and i don't mean to tell you what you already know), you talk about a girl and then dramatically, though dramatically isn't the right word, talk about a simile of a whore ... weren't we under the impression of a girl in question?

i think doing this, as you do in the following stanzas, enriches the poem beyond its wildest treasures.

this is a great poem, but i think you as the poet should be quite aware of this, so i suppose i have nothing else to mention. thanks for the great write, the story. i favorite, because it is just so unbelievably finished the more i think about it. and colorful, dazzling should i say. hope you aren’t seeking criticism, because i shamefully have none to give.

thanks again for the perfection. you got that down, on the paper that is. just be aware of that.
 — listen

thanks for the generous comments, poets. It was that  excerpt from Borges' poem, "Only one thing was missing-- the street had no other side" that latched on to my imagination and refused to let go.
 — banditfemme

i'm glad you got it off your back now-- it's time it romped through the fields free again.
 — Virgil

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