The translucent membrane
of regret extends and expands
arousing slit wrists of resentment
that bleed into vacant spaces
better left unexplored.
No red cross nor wooden
stake can remove the rot
that festers behind
benign smiles
and tossed curls
of anguish. Desiccated
reveries cascade away
leaving only bone
and marrow for the sparrows.
pardon me. but this poim made my testicles retract
ReplyDeleteen interious pubis caviti
for reasons chosen
not to decry but let me
say your
graphic
saeny-rocks
d
(not dee, which is a gurly name, deidre, desdeire, dresoirre, ez(which is french for eh?...not to desolate any desiree)
you can call me al
Desiccated and desecrated are harmonious.
ReplyDeleteI dig the internal same line rhymes.
Rot behind the smiles; yeah, "we all float down here."
luxuriant language-- your words bring to mind
ReplyDeleteelegant costumes with painstaking attention
to detail and umami of textures.
I find the final two lines quite comforting:
the ultimate outcome may be democratic
(I'm speaking in Greek terms and avoiding all references to politics in The Americas).
I would like to add that the death of a spirit guide is sad indeed.
ReplyDeleteMy totem are 3: Red Tail Hawk, Red Fox and Timber Wolf.
Your last 2 lines were especially good.