I was never ready
for the planing of edges
Ruffs of thin timber
slice and curl
caught in the nicked blade
Beneath
only pulp
and white ants reside
Bodies writhe
surge away from light
seething secrets
under good wood
And still
the whine
of the plane
coming closer.
6 comments:
ooo ... I had a sudden vision of you in a workshirt, muscular forearms, doing blokey things in your shed, lololol ... ahem *blushes*
heh, sorry.
This is very good. I like the new spare you. the ragged sort of structure and sparsity suits the voice here very well.
whoops, sorry. I didn't realise my son must have been using my computer and signed himself in here.
The comment above was from me, not some weird gay groupie, lol.
moon
OMG, thank god for that, *laughing*, I nearly had a heart attack lol.
Yeah, re the structure, I am able to exert a lot more control over the poetry now, I think its a result of writing prose, much tighter, and nowhere near as much room for creating flights of fancy when you write prose, it has to make sense, so its not a bad thing that it flows into the poetry.
a gay groupie
LOL
heh, my son's DJ name is 'structure' funny coincidence eh? I think it's a good name though
Okay, it's time to say it "you are the king of metaphor"....where do you get your ideas from? sitting in awe
Structure is indeed, a good DJ type name *smile*, very cool
Hiya Sandy, tragically, its a very mundane process, I take any normal day to day activity and convert into something convoluted and odd *grin*
But thankyou for the compliment, much appreciated.
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