These are all super rough first cuts, most of the lines will be discarded, a few good ones will go on to become parts of different poems.
we have sent foraging parties
to each others bodies
fingers finding their eyries in sunburned shoulder blades
staking claim to favorite stretches
the patch of chest
warmest under your morning breath
we have scattered flags
and unknown to us,
land mines
triggered by the cold or absence
an explosive loneliness that
leaves the chest caving for breath
until we ravage our skins
raking for an eventual peace
turning up now and then
an unexploded round
we choose to keep
waiting for more delicate hands
to dig it out
I've got those new city blues
and I'm breathing cigarette smoke through my nose again
maybe I just want to smell a bit a like home
more later, as always
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
hmmmm
The first one is awesome. I'm not sure what is good poetry and what isn't, but I like it. Good enough for me. It puts pictures in my head, and makes me feel something.
Post a Comment