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the palm tree cuts the moon in half,
it bleeds its stenciled leaves into the room and shivers
your eyelash bounces back the shaft
through burlap curtains, nets, I strain
to hear where it rejoins the sky,
the space between cicada timbals --- even
our own expanding pleura --
before you shift, before the guard
slams metal shut and shuffles
away, across the sweating tiles
| From your poem "mid-term":|
that north of Barcelona
beach where train tracks spilled
& took me
to the skies?
"through burlap curtains, nets, I strain
to hear where it rejoins the sky,"
And in "Beads":
My hip dislodged, it stutters, bends
towards the sky: a glassy languid face hung
against the window.
From a few of these I read I'm seeing engagement with perspective, objects and particularly a lower and higher space.
And the eye or eyes. You return to this it seems, and I find you're taking the reader here. Some of your poems are based in strong feelings and emotions, while others make the reader observent. I enjoyed these few I've read.
|| Posted on 2021-11-22 00:00:00 | by Wolfwatching | [ Reply to This ] |