asters at the fence line.

 

 

   Make what you will of asters,

   assured, confidently clinging

   to their truths.

 

 

   Fulgurant in the afternoon

   like chubby w****s wagering

   vanity.Their cosmetic damp

   and bulbous as the preachers

   lips, dingy as a treadbare wig.

 

 

   Frightening, isn't it. The

   windblown pimps that wiggled

   into skintight-sharkskin suits

   fiend milky in the bantam;

   a parody of coitus. I watched,

   from a distance, as they flew

   their Stetson's as in a bonspiel

   for freedom.

 

 

   Trans. Before seven they all

   stand the same, inflammatory

   in their boo tissue,

   white as the influent Lorelei,

   appropriate for pain.        hder 

Reviews

[Steven]

Goddammit! Amazing...

[Legion]

I'm not sure what just happened, but I think I was just bedazzled. A wonderful write. Such pairing of words, wit, and wisdom. Well done.

[Emily B]

there is a word for poets like you, the tallest word I know, with juicy words like fulgurant and bulbous, you really pull off the most a-kilter images, i read your words breathless racing to see what might be around the corner

[Leslie Philibert]

Another excellent poem,creative and interesting language,well observed and
lyrically well described, and a poem with a great structure.Good work.