Let's just say we were flying kites,
then
the devil's cloud gave
ghosts to the wind under black scabby redness,
wrought around a hole of popping flesh.
And then after she spilled the wine on his neck
Remember! he thought,
Hiccups, not longing long arms that hug loved ones with sexyloved eyes,
eyes so far and so close off
that she's a cliff
and he grabs at &
he loves and yells for her.
How pretty that sun sets so softy
while the people
cry for galaxies of gravity.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
so you've got a cross of ee cummings and james joyce here. and by that i mean, it follows at least two lines of thought as ee usually does and holds some stream of consciousness feelings as joyce. however, use more punctuation (() [] {} "" etc.) if you're going for the different thought lines, they need to be more pronunciated. the streams of consciousness is fine, but you need to make that more obvious, as well. make the sentences longer or have the subjects of lines flow more easily into each other. all in all you need a motive. not even a message if you don't want that, but at least of reason for this poem to exist. also, i don't get the title, mostly because your ideas aren't ridiculously concrete, which is your style, so that's fine, but aside from the last word i struggle to find ideas that fit what your title suggests.
Post a Comment