postcard a plume

is this a love poem?

 

 

First the stink of the winter planets wrap in your pant loops

then the dead tree feast: freeze

Cezanne blue is more spectacular.

 

I want to dance the bugaloo for you, with each speck of shine,

like someone who was dead but came back to life to tell us,

so convincingly, of the brightest light.

 

Detroit's burrows first appear like Reesee Cups in the sea.

We would go there, evocative with word play; I couldn't

function and truth be told, shouldn't be made to.

 

There were times when I went whole nights with you on my tongue

like a lie bump, sore from salt. Compare my wet lips to the moon,

I don't give a s**t. But prepare me as you would the apple orchard

when you watered the frozen ground in the 28 degree cold

to let off warmth. I would much rather Keats stay dead and not

beg for "new Phoenix wings to fly to my desire".

 

each crumb dropped by the balarenas I want to satisfy. One day

they will die of starvation after the lovely dance; but before

the shrapnel of the Firebird burns the loom. I shall hide each

precious morsel in the slipper of promise. I will share it soon.

 

When hug me tight is no sleeveless, close fitting jacket but

an excitant, human hum of pure frailty. I hate Hitchcock

for his brutal inclinations, mostly in black and white; is there

birds hyson in the brightest spring who wishes to live in the hair

of a girl? You are the deepest bearded iris.

I wish the damsel saved.

 

You agitated shrub, as someone who just cant believe

that Merv Griffin created all happiness from his basilica

of fortressed applause.

 

as for Your dreams,

I shant assist.

Reviews

[sienikeha]

amazing yet again. :)

[caesarkreshen]

man, this is amazing again. YOU MIGHT BE THE BEST WRITER I HAVE EVER HAD AS A FRIEND. No offense to my other friends of course.

Still some spelling errors... but wow. Very much on point.

Edit: every poem is a love poem. heh.

[Emily B]

all the best poems are love poems, didn't you know?

[Emily B]

i wonder a little if being near all the other poets in the cafe here hasn't given you license to spread your proverbial wings, I sense a difference in words like these from those i read of you in the beginning

[caesarkreshen]

I've been sharing secrets with him in private. haha. Not really...