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38. james joyce exercise
May 23, 2012, 10:11 pm
Filed under: Exercises, Literature | Tags: , ,

[task: no punctuation and repetition of “maybe”]

maybe you will roll me up and time will pass and it will be so warm I’ll never unroll or maybe if I unroll I will find nothing maybe and maybe I’ll be old then or I will know more maybe but maybe when I unroll there’s  some love some curled up love maybe maybe it’s a lump maybe it’s more    a baby maybe it’s wrinkled and waiting maybe I have forgotten in my big space cloud that     soon               maybe there is no unrolling maybe i’m holding and softening offering my hands out maybe  I would like  to stretch and in my stretch shudder    shudder maybe as my muscles flex and fold and flex and fold  maybe I’ve gotten bigger soaking up sun  my cells have grown old and died and come back to life maybe      i hope    i hope they have come back again those cells those cycles maybe I’ve shed too much hair in sinks maybe the grime I feel is only natural the sickness the sadness the unidentified mess maybe   maybe my blood is overclotting and that is nothing maybe        maybe i will shave my legs or maybe I will hide my legs  wear pants maybe maybe  they’re not really there    my legs   I don’t know maybe   or no    they’re there    silly me      maybe I’ll be fresher maybe cleaner in the water maybe this fog this shroud this ghost coating my day with grim and grime maybe it’s waiting for a cleaning      maybe I will poke a finger through it or maybe I’ll stick my tongue  out to taste some light and it’s caramel and maybe the burnt pieces the brittle pieces fall into my eyes and maybe flecks of gold will rise      so I have to look up      so I see oh yes     there’s blue sky     maybe the clouds have gone away to visit their grandmother       maybe she will have a bowl of caramels the ones I tasted before and maybe she has a bundle of blankets rolled up in the closet    maybe her grandmother  made them and maybe she’d never unrolled them and maybe they smelled like lavender those lavender sachets   maybe they’ve unraveled   I could hold them in my hand maybe      maybe this is just the thing for me to hold

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