January 28, 2016

this poem is best suited to be an independent film about lost perspective

this poem is best suited to be an independent film about lost perspective

a whirring of processes 
in a meshed clock-less world 
anchor shadows, a whorl 
of wind hooks, dust 
and movie lights waiting 

quiet on the set 
ear-less black yet 
a nose full of you 
scent went intending 
never one to be ending 
what back stories do

slurry bin for recesses 
hungry endless mores 
poured more please Tories 
pining old ways 
tickets were bought and sold 

I too, can be lent 
poem says, and sent 
some thirsty bones and flesh...
and yes, soul does searching 
heart wholly holed, perching 
a front row seat in nets 


1 comment:

  1. "in a meshed clock-less world
    anchor shadows, a whorl
    of wind hooks, dust
    and movie lights waiting"

    "quiet on the set
    ear-less black yet"

    Great ear candy.

    Also, super clever with tucking in hidden words like "smores" and "stories." Also, the double meaning in lent/Lent (I used to be Methodist).

    Very cool way to talk about volunteering to be caught: "front row seat in nets" ... I think there must be such a feeling of momentary peace in just giving up the wriggle and admitting defeat, even if it ultimately means your own death. Really, there's freedom in giving up and going "gentle into that good night," I think.