You are a a canon bursting through their artful hedges,
you are a blonde sonic boom,
a megaton atom,
as you crash through the front door and employ
your opera vocals to the tune of your intention
to go sledding.
You used to clean your voice teacher’s house,
you tell us,
in that way you talk,
lips curling around each “r” like
children clinging to their parents in a crowd,
and once,
he made you sing for another student,
to show her how it was done,
while you tried to hide the cloth and Windex;
you said it was mean of him,
but you smiled, too.
You married her daughter’s husband,
and I wonder what she thinks of you as
she pleasantly smiles. I think she likes you.
Maybe her daughter would have, as well,
if she were still alive;
her children call you “Mother” now,
along with the others.
Six yellow ducklings in a row.
You wade through snow pants and mittens,
laid out on white sheets like bodies,
like her body when she left them,
before you came.
Are you saving them?
I want to eat their little thoughts,
and swim through their fading memories.
I never knew her,
but they did,
once.
And when I see you,
it’s all I can think about.
missing teeth
lost people
dentures
proxies
can never replace
indeed.
Once and for all, can you specify how we should address you? Is ‘Shrink’ appropriate? I hope this is ok. In the meantime, Er, h, Shrink, freaking great poem! There is something freeing about a poem where you can just let go and say what you mean and say everything you mean. Well, well done!
Wow, thank you so very much. You can call me absolutely anything that suits your fancy!
The exchange between you and Eston is brilliant, especially in the visual form that it takes in the marginalia – columns taper from lines to single words as the replies mount up and shift right – until the voices meld – they could easily flip if one isn’t watching too closely – then they expand and shift left again depending on where you position the reply to replies – would make a great time lapse video, sped up, if one could actually catch the replies coming in real time – would look like a kung-fu movie, I’m sure – eston is your typer durden I think Chagall
We’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
Croon and pirouette on, o’ ibertine
“I want to eat their little thoughts, and swim through their fading memories.”
Superb – or more correctly – superbest – or more superb than the rest of it. P.S. Think you and Eston need to get a room. lol
Thank you 😉
The approach to this poem was so unusual and great, I got lost there for a moment. Great ending too. High five!
Haha, thank you : )
Wow epic poetic battle there. You guys should do a collaboration.
😉
Sharply observed, thats like a whole book in one poem 🙂
thank you.
You are welcome
Thank you for your blog and all that comes with it. You are as sharp as poly chromium razor wire or aka concertina wire which has a better sound but cuts all the same.
I like that, thank you!
I like to use razor wire in my poems see the link a companion pieces with Devline the editor at BoySlut. You should send her something.
http://boyslut.wordpress.com/2013/02/16/two-companion-poems-tom-hatch-devlin-de-la-chapa/
here we go again…
what?!
You know exactly what! I read your narcotic blog to feel euphoric, you are feeding me expired aspirin!
I hope you choke on it!
Oh, you’ll be elated to know I’m practically asphyxiated by your revilement.
Then how come I can still hear you talking?
I can still type semi-conscious, you make me noxious.
Maybe I’m just jealous of your effortless eloquence, but that doesn’t give you the right to flaunt it like some cosmic prima donna!
I’ll never stop, until you’ve overdosed.
How dare you, pompous condescending snob!
Easily, and you, you self-assigned critic, are the snob here.
I didn’t appoint myself any position, this is an open forum, young lady, you vicious temptress!
You are a rotten scoundrel from fingertips to soul, and you enjoy flaunting it!
How would you like my fingertips choking your soul?
Better than your words!
If my words are so inferior and feeble, why is it afflicting your lofty constitution?
Anything so unrelenting in its repetition, even a favorite song, can become sour and abhorrent.
Then why are still relying to me? YOU are the blonde sonic boom!
As you wish, I will speak no more words to you if I can help it!
You can’t help it, can you? You love this sordid repetition you honey-tongued maniac, you raving moronic princess.You are sick with sweet and sour!
Fine! I do crave hurling insults at your savagery, you debasing, fire-lit poet, you dios demente!
Oh, I know you do, ella diablo! You love being insulted, it’s the only this that humbles you down from your noble cloud!
How can you even see my cloud from that fetid cave where you spew forth panting poems into the night, under-dweller?
Through a telescope that looks for fiery comets and apocalyptic asteroids such as yourself! Besides, your cloud is just a tuft of transparent gauze wrapped around an ascending balloon into space.
Since you store your fire in the ground like a malignant volcano, I stay up here to protect myself from your rich, episodic eruptions.
You would love my rich, episodic eruptions melt your cloud into tears and pop your vulgar balloon.
Your lecherous gropings are less astonishing than they are fucking odious intoxications!
Oh, so you admit you’re savoring my intoxicating odium? I knew it! Hypocrite!
Violator!
Malevolent annihilator!
Miscreant instigator!
Recreant manipulator!
Resident troublemaker!
Vagrant undertaker!
Violent agitator!
Hypocrite commentator!
Impertinent perpetrator!
Slipshod coordinator!
Magnificent dictator!
Dictatorial innovator!
Innovative desecrator!
Desecrating arbitrator!
Arbitrating death debater!
Debating life-incinerator!
Incinerating masturbator!
Masturbating communicator!
I love the image of her hiding th cloth and the window cleaner, very good.
thank you so much
“I want to eat their little thoughts” beautiful 🙂
thank you so much.
yes, agreed! my favorite line!!
Powerful and beautiful.. I love the way you spin your thoughts into a delicate web of truth and feelings… I am a fan! 🙂
thank you so much : )
Wow. What I love about your poetry (well, this is a generalization, so I apologize in advance) is how beautifully you express your feeling of being a stranger in your own skin, and in this case, in other’s lives. It is a beautiful, desperate alienation that is stunning to encounter.
I really like that description. I do feel that way.
There seems to be an odd kind of convergence happening in this electronic world. Have you read Johnny’s “Extrapolate” yet? We are all writing about that same sense of almost-but-not-quite belonging today.
As an aside, I have been thinking about the un-World card, and alienation might be the way to go with it!
Oh, yes! I really like that.
The truth and simple, painful honesty in this is endearing. Your honesty and your conveyance of hers. It has a bitter-sweet charm about it.
thank you…yes, that is the feeling. bitter-sweet.