tounge tastes metallic
while I
surveying headstones
fashioned in photo
back pocketscrap
inscriptions
paged on books
meant to be left blank
wandering the freshest bones
push out refuse
blooms
watered earth insipid
horizons westward
coded creamed tinged
and pinking
from drops confessed
on dry moving lips
6 comments:
From drops confessed on dry moving lips.
Very nice.
oh the wind the wind is blowing (as lenny cohen said) through the graves the wind is blowing.
i really like this one-- the scrap of paper (or photo) in the back pocket is a really powerful image. seeking the living among the dead (as jesus said).
now-- edit it for like, 6 months or so.
>:)
thanks wolfboy
I certainly was referring to the futility of looking for something living among the dead.
I'm in constant edit and I will.
But don't you ever feel that sometimes first drafts are complete and that editing actually diminishes them?
(not referring to this poem or anything)
I don't think so, editing doesn't necessarily have to involve the removal or addition of anything in principle.
I sometimes feel that poems can soak in more meaning if you will it.
i find that when i edit, i often can or do change the meaning. often, that means taking the "real" (i.e. autobiography) and making it fiction.
but of course, as we've stated ad neauseum, fiction is sometimes a "better" form of the truth.
p.s. i just wanted to use "ad neauseum" in a sentence.
Post a Comment