I am writing letters
from my primary residence
on the Island of Alone
Paper skins
Words kiss
Sentences caress
I like them swollen with myths
Of turbulence and tremors
Of abandonment
And collapsing stars
I love weaving long umbilical poems
that vine their way into your heart
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5 comments:
THe first lines sucks Wally, start again!For christsake you sound like a sewer worker !
"The human mind is inspired enough when it comes to inventing horrors; it is when it tries to invent a Heaven that it shows itself cloddish. " ~Evelyn Waugh
The ombilical cord of your poem is not tasteful, it drags in the vespasienne Wally.
I haven't hung with a sewer worker to know what they sound like. I have hung with pretentious snobs and they sound like anonymous
I am happy to be an educated snob. I don't need your poor poetry !
Deep in his muttering
Wally let fall some crumbles
Words he whispers to the wall
From his tongue turgid and taut
"I knew the secret!But I forgot"
I dream of going back to my sewer
Soon all the words will fall !
I love it!
I love it!
It falls !
Welcome to the toilet
And the end of it all...
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