Thursday, April 22, 2010

The Greatest Gift Hit My Eye

Gaily (would bark?) my love a-tumbling down a wished well—starch
skin, stark:
naked loose leaf
oblong scribbled in dark.
A Turner turned over onside towards winter-numb

thumbs pressed against, stainless volt; from, or after the meal starts,
Trembling tarts
the oval eye rips ripples
(as you were) a splotch,
—danced, goes my line mumbles nothings as signs above a dot.

Birthday lists (firsts of many I’s) notebooks pile higher, adored and
mounts: moans
us (masquerade a busily boy)
with horns as Beelzebub
around a thorn bush kept secretly as pressed to mourn;

a speck about the milky white—which alter? Why, with much
fortune falters
site: imperfect device
in negatives the nightness scolders—
my lens no more as torn by a BB or foam flown inside; order.


  1. I enjoy the rhyme in this one, nice work my friend. Glad to see you've been having a pretty steady output.

    But is it a glare on
    the iris
    that sets him so beside his?
    For he owns yellowed deck of cards
    and spilled upon
    ashy tables
    she goes a-tremble
    at the glass in his socket
    fore once it is seen
    the eye cannot be forgotten
    what is bought is sold
    and the cards sing
    in cold device
    hints of large black coat sleeves
    filled with silver
    and sharpened tongues
    yet she edges
    and serpentine
    among legs
    like queens squashed
    in the deck
    she covers half his sight
    and sets to the work
    he won't long forget.

  2. Dude, we gotta talk about what you wrote. You hit the nail. Thanks for checking it all out, bee tee dubya :)

  3. Oh we more detail.

    Also it would be cool if we could get a series of poems that respond to each other and read them