the hem of this skirt has grown so unbearably frayed
i fear i begin to see him in the trailing strands
disillusioned, i retire to sheets soft and clean
waxing poetic and wistful in the cool night air
he grows and plods in my e a r d r u m s
"think; think; think;" he knifes to me
i smile and let my blood pool for him
we watch our wounded red reflections
bloom, and the thoughtstains make it all right
it's all right, and i know it, and he knows it
anthony, with his unkempt patchy morning eyes
and i, toes wrapped in scuffed patent leather
the both of us very nearly make one.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
a lover named Anthony
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6 inquisitat:
i want a lover named anthony.
anthony anthony anthony.
And the knee...
where did your new poems go?
"New" as in written in the last half-month?
There aren't any...
I don't know what the step after writer's block is called, but I'm there.
ouch. well get out of your block as soon as you can, please.
if this helps, whenever i can't write, i jot down words that catch my fancy and start from there. i find my notecards all over the place. it's fun, really.
words today: smoke, proclaim, cross-ankled
I have phrases written all over the place, I just can't flesh anything out.
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