solvent syllables in the theater of the choke. deaf as the wolf. Blind as the Earth. She carries her pennies in fistfuls. Arriving at the fountain without the luxury of a wish.
the yellow. the simple bridges. manifest their sober. in eloquent ghosts. and the patterns. all too similar to losing hope.
isoleses triangles. the weak geometry of skin. jagged puzzle pieces. in a pciture yet to be determined. she scribbles the world. in dull pencils and fading ink. imagining time in crusts of bread. and doses of medicine.
softening the affliction with repetition and indifference.
the madness. the sweet apple skins of insanity. like paper fingers. trying to grab hold of a deepening abyss.
burnt soldiers and faded wars. purchase their edges in bent ladders and soft scabs.
the wound has its grin. the infection yawns. as the sharper angles reach their equilibrium.
Tuesday
4/01/2014 01:27:00 AM
Incredibly visual, you have an amazing way with words.
thank you. very much appreciate you taking the time to share your kind thoughts.
I can certainly relate to this poem. I really like the way you establish the tone in the first stanza. Describing a woman going to a fountain with coins but no wishes is really clever and works well with the subject.
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