for Nathan
I once opened my arms wide
exposing what was inside
a brilliant cascading scarlet thread
that was pulled out from my heart and head
I thought that it could be pulled forever
and never shrink in any weather
But once pulled long and tight,
my eyes paralyzed in fright
the feeling of my wings being released
and every dream and thought was hence deceased.
And then in knots all tangled up inside.
And the ground then opened up wide.
Vermilion, fading,
into the pool, wading,
My fingertips touch the tickled mercury
My lips were bitten, red with fury.
And there is an unattractive part of me
jutting out there for everyone to see
That everyone already saw
So I am reworking and stretching my jaw
With nagging insistence,
strengthening it's resistance
ready to just bite it off.
I am not a butterfly, I'm just a moth
I am stuck inside a square
and I do not need to be there.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
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Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
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driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
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like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
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motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
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Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
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nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
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Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
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and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
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confession is all: it is what my poetry is, and that is my life.
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it's not possible. I think the problem must be- too much love and hate.
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secret fancies don't really bother me, alright? but know that once you tell me I become either like a turtle and snap my smile...
First off, you ARE a butterfly, not a moth.
ReplyDeleteSecondly... My favorite part:
"a brilliant cascading scarlet thread
that was pulled out from my heart and head"
This is fantastic imagery and I will carry this poem around with me in my mind.
* For eternity.
ReplyDelete