The Living Art of Self Consumption~

Colors pour

paintings tilt in a bow

my footsteps in stormy weather

trail a canary yellow sash, in lemon rind

enmeshed deep in the fibers of my waist in persimmon garlands

as I leap

with a tilt of the skull

for marigold honeybees

and sunshine

through my preying grace

dripping figurines into a music box

coagulant dancers born from my blood rimed lips

drip and drop

down the white clay of my broken ribs

curved for an invitation

there

a hospice in lavender skirts

as men melt by

printing their fluid skin against the walls of my threadbare slips

of the lips

my violin

an arbor for a geisha lost in the parasol spin

in an alley where a heavy gun

exports its metal into a screaming spine

I grind

to a halt

peeling butterflies from my arms

in art deco violence

gauze and glue

in a museum

boldly declaring;

The Living Art of Self Consumption

 

 

 

copyright:2012vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

 

Reviews

[asdarkeyesclose]

'I grind

to a halt

peeling butterflies from my arms

in art deco violence

gauze and glue

in a museum

boldly declaring;

The Living Art of Self Consumption'

so many lines in this that simply blow me away. through your words we see life and humanity with fresh eyes and this is exactly what good metaphor does, lets us rediscover the world around us, taking language apart at the seams and then redrawing it in ways we do not expect. the writing it finely crafted, exotic, soft one second, harsh the next but always dynamic, emotionally tuned and vibrant. breathtaking poetry.

[Reese38]

Much like the finest of wines, your images are to be savored slowly, until the bouqet permeates all the senses. Divine exploration. You take us on a never ending journey deep into the possibilities of language and the mind.

[RainQueen]

When I read your work, I can't race through to get a sense of it - and I don't want to. I just want to sink in, dive in, lose myself. This powerful, fragile woman - steel and gossamer - I can see her, cracking a crysalis, breaking, living. As always, in complete awe. Thank you for sharing this with us~

[dovetailer]

I wonder
if we could see what you see, would it be
the convoluted beauty
the sensuous rush that you write
or would it be what we all see
mundane in black and white
without thrill or spill
perhaps you translate your mundanity into
the beauty we see in your whirls and swirls of fancy
translate us all to a wonderland
where myth and gruesome glitter abound
until we are just spellbound
and for a moment life doesn't suck
and we all sing
a chorus in perfect harmony...
"I'll have what she's having..."

[Lilly Negoi]

there's always something in your lines that screams "brilliance"...and this poem is no exception to that rule...

[Robin]

time-etched flashes in yellow and shadow grey portals into a psychic landscape of reverberant memories as mirrored pools morph ripples from the stillness .
Art , pure - undistilled , inking the soul draped in the surreal brocade of life .

[Liza]

to be bonded within one self too much can seem suffocating but you expressed it so sensually