love poem no 890.

 

 

 

Maybe it's true and i'm really not worth a s**t.

Hours spent at the Dodge plant, eating hoagies

at "Laura's breakfast anytime dining", has made

me too full for lovemaking. Like the sun, sometimes,

gets too full for daffodils and futures; half moons

and vital signs. Yet when the undersides of your

breasts filled the room with the cormorant smells

at sea level

 

was it not eye who lit the cintronella cancle

indoors? And  while it burned bright

and rich like storytelling driving

the brown roaches crazy,  can't  I still

hear them now under the wallpaper

trying to engage their sharp tongues,

their trim vertebra bodies and their

misguided versions of romance,

 

to recite poems?

Reviews

[_mal]

You're amazing. Each line drops you into the next idea. Always look though my subscriptions for your work when I check back in here

[Corset]

There are friends that catch you when you fall, and then there are friends that catch you when you fall so they can throw you over the edge again, personally, and repeatedly, because they like the way your mouth makes that bow shape just before they grab your arms again. Laura's is a wonderful place for breakfast, they have fantastic bagels, and beautiful music, every bit as worthy a place to eat as anywhere else there is sunshine and sweetness.

[K. Louis]

your words are so lovely.

[W.k.kortas]

There is much ado about love that is related to the four-letter verb for same,and, like this piece, it is earthy, inescapable, and essential. Sometimes you recite poems, and sometimes you shut the hell up. More of us should shut the hell up and listen to well-told tales like this one.

[Horizon K.]

Wow Dana, you are so creative, always! I get to twist and turn through your poetry and come out the other side thinking... what did I just experience?!! I think I am stuck under that wallpaper, trying to scratch away the citronella scent... Write poems right over it, then crawl out again...
An adventure here, with you:)