|soft fistful of indecision
mountain of sky above me.
too much candle
too soon the bird in all its glory
flocking to the moon.
i sip from the emerald sea,
black, turnip eyes behold
a caravan of lies, each of
my little heads turning
two words against the tide.
inside of that undead flotilla,
where the lowest torture of flowers
is met by dew,
and by a stovetop, its aching rust,
forming into revelation:
guess i dance out
in a sandstorm,
i have a gourd, two left shoes,
a feel of paper being crumpled
by the shade my body cannot keep.
that same feel, that textured death,
a eulogy of kneeling,
i am safe, ordained
31 Oct 11
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very nicely rendered. might omit 'soft' from the title? especially like 5-9.
Sometimes fisting hurts.
Nice poem, rough and tender, just how I like it.
Lovely title, Linus
Oh lovely! I second Jen's comment!
I like the title, but I must admit I am befuffled by its strange edge.
A soft fist of indecision? So chronically indecisive?
befuffled? wat dat?
i be fuffled, you know?
A combination of befuddled and baffled.
the title gathers the dream of what the poet means ... 'mountain of sky' takes dissimiltudes of imagery to make it feel bigger than big and weightier than ... slipping into the song motif, 'too soon, too soon' and the sky rolls the mountain we call Moon...
'turning two heads against the tide' .. nice echo to the first strophes Moon weight dragging against the grate ...
then turn it into the reader, make them dance in meter ...
a 'lil crayon whimsy to make it feel small
'a eulogy of kneeling' -- brilliant line!!!!
which makes the last line shine -- as I moved from wonder into awe, my eyes glimmered with the beauty that I saw ... and I saw beauty here DL
slick but could use some polishes...i have no specific critiques atm though. just a feeling. cool poem!
L1 sounds like something grom an early Genesis album. Gusto
Hello Linus, your writing makes me feel so......