*untitled*

hmmm ... dunno, this is one of those poems I kind of like but never really feel like it works or it's done or something ... oh yeah, and i can't figure out a title ...

In the winter of my 26^th year

death crawled beyond my willing reach as

breathless collisions formed images of young girls tied to sand

as fresh air bled from their slightly open mouths

 

and I remember your mouth

wide with breath - your flesh warm with blood

your hands harsh with aching

 

as I crammed hate in cold lakes under thick mud

algae crusted ice and wet, wet fog

 

and plucked ignorance ripe and ready and somewhat heady

fresh from American orchards

 

I crave your reality - your softly scented skin

just for a day a minute an hour

see I can smell the world your in

but no matter how far I bend I just cant

reach it

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

hmm vivid memories past trauma wanting what might have been ... hmmmm lots of creative tension wielded in your poem .. tho your closing verse is a positive thing as reader i am beleaguered by the algae and mud scents ... like trying to pull ones self from a bog ... and in your closing i get a glimpse of freshness but can not find sound purchase and remain struggling ...i read this a couple times and want to read again ...there is so much depth ..so well done says i!
E.

[Una Xoto]

Oh this is rich with meaning. it leaves me dreaming. I love the imagery, the flow...This is electric...

[J. Hampton]

I like it too.. loaded with juicy metaphors ..
some escape me...but I am drawn in by them

seems almost a nostalgic ... "hater"-moment revisited
wanting to "be" someone
the photo evades me...

Normally I won't embarrass myself by attempting to disect a work that is over my head
do tell ...!

Blessssssssssss