My midnight poetry cried ‘Wolf!’ and hid under the bed,
And tugged at dusty carpet in a heartbreak.
Don’t want to wake up to the premonition
Of heavy souls that can’t squeeze to a tea can,
My own tired jinnee who has gotten out
And gotten poisoned by its freedom:
The tender scents of lilac lit up
Too many humming birds, and their
Incessant buzzing drove into the ground
An epileptic fit of madness, stuttered,
And I collapsed, exhaling
The smoking metal of an emptied barrel.
| This has a hard kind of feeling to it, even with the hummingbirds which would normally be "light". Perhaps the wolf and genie are such strong images, if jinnee who has gotten out (of the bottle) means that. Kind of trippy with a surprise ending, a little hard to read but worth while for the feelings.||| Posted on 2012-06-01 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ] || i like all the different allusions to writer's block...at least that is what i see here...|
inspiration hiding under the bed..."dusty carpet" ideas not walking there...no footprints of themes...
the buzzing, the fit of madness...everything trying to get out...but it is muddled in my head...driving me crazy...maybe too many thoughts at once...
flying in place with wings burning up.
|| Posted on 2012-05-29 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ] |