mapleearl

Sheila

told me that to

make a poem was like

telling some divine secret

while in bondage. Gagged

in a leather skirt, in

6 inch stilettos,

in a white blouse

with cap sleeves.

She should know,

she taught English

in public school, spent

her own money on books

for the children;

that densely staining aggregation 

that had emerged from younger

vulva's.

Some blessed ones

with lice on their scalps.

Reviews

[Tree]

Fascinating piece, brother. The subject of birthing the poem, telling the story, to me is not mined enough. Creation, as Marie mentioned is messy. Not sure what it is really, I guess the act of birthing anything is going to produce its own afterbirth, a heat. the stickiness. The smell.
Like wet earth.

This poem, was wet earth.


Well done.

Diego

[MoriartyMesa]

Well, give me a moment to cool my poetic jets, but is there something deeper. The start is very interesting and the end breaths something different.

[W.k.kortas]

Bondage, as you tell well, can be an elective or imposed condition. Epiphany can come from any and all unexpected corners as well. The image of a "densely staining aggregation" out of "younger/ vulva's"...well, it makes sense once you think about it, but who else could make us think about it?

[Delmar Cooper]

Oh, you got that Wayback Machine reving now. It's hitting on all eight.

[Marie Anzalone]

The act of creation is a messy, bloody, vulgar, tiresome process. We do it before we are ready, we do it without adequate resources, we do it for the wrong and right reasons. We do it, yes, with hands around our throats and spit dripping down our chin. Something lets us hold onto dignity long enough, I think, to get up another day and face a tiresome world showing us its underbelly.

I always say it easy to be joyful and spiritual when you live in the woods in a sheltered bubble and simply "domnot let any of thatnasty negativity enter your life." Far fuckig harder to get out and look our humanness in the face and then come home and write a love poem to it.

and all good poetry is love poetry.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"with lice on their scalps" i like that line...gotta love those poetic stilletos---

and believe it or not, even these days, we can still make a poem for free.
jacob