Straw Poets~

she smiles and plucks him like a harp
peels him like an orange with her white teeth
a hyacinth poetic pulse sliding her throat
perfume rhymes in her veins
an aromatic haiku in her wink
needle diamonds

sharp tipped silver sliver
between her fingertips
she has chosen a deep canary yellow
to sew his skin back on
a dreaming poet tattooed with glistening silk
on the inside of his wrist
filled with straw

 

she pulls his sinew like five point thorns with  little fingertips
plays them like the strings of a violin
a lunar orbit fallen to a teal wall displaying a velvet painting of Jesus
or maybe it was Elvis in the cloudy margarita
above barstools
reserved for dead poets
swimming animate poet skins

 

 

 

copyright:2010vssmd/pa. inc

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

This poem leaves me w/a sense of a highly sophisticated version of Attack of the Puppet People.

Such patented voodoo surreality should have further effects. Perhaps armed w/bow and lyre an army of Selene-ized straw poets could invade innumerable bars throughout the land, puncturing unsuspecting barstool habitues' ankles w/a potion designed to dissolve convenient categorizations in the brains of dedicated imbibers.

Aggregated, society would thus be injected w/medicinal mercurialness, catalyzing transformation in the arteries of citi-zenry, inaugurating the reign of the marvelous.

[dovetailer]

I love your imagery...I try very hard to see what you see... but I struggle sometimes...maybe some are meant to just be experienced instead of understood...
to let the words and phrases wash over us like warm summer rain...soaking us to the skin...making us just feel immersed...we don't always have to know from whence it comes to feel it immerse us...

"she pulls his sinew like five point thorns with little fingertips
plays them like the strings of a violin" I loved this mental picture...

[alan peter kelly]

TOO FUNNY ED!!!!! haha

[alan peter kelly]

you paint a paradox...beautiful yet otherwise....something mired in complete onesidedness...the puppet mistress to to man who could burst into a plume of even less significance in an instant...each alliterative gesture and poetic device is utilised for an exact purpose and while the poem is supremely resolved...the darkness overwhelms to the cusp of a disturbing precipice....the player and the played...an age old age old...and oh my how very dark of thought...how deep the silken tattoo on the wrist...

[Ed Hart]

yes she does, and leaves colored ink on my collar

[Robin]

immerses all the senses ~ swimming in your words ~ gorgeous

[Moonflower]

This holds extremely vivid and outstanding imagery, a brilliant flash of intricately woven phrases and vision. Exquisite work, darling.