Wednesday, August 17, 2005

on the run: a collection tucked in the fold of a book

something in glances or a lack therof,
sputtering over wood tones & natural hues,
a faint, wavering staccato on a tattooed drum.

ways of not looking lead to silence.
the lag in response was telling,
a demonstration of control.

recharging the creature doesn't seem to work;
just look at its cunning little tail.
i would i had worn other colors.

& in the awkward shy steps
between each arpeggio
or reel

a new thing stumbled & weaved,
uncertain, a little doomed,
a little too Shakespearean in the way it danced.

3 little fish:

Blogger JP swam up to say...

I've become very wary of poetry lately, but I rather liked this one. Especially the second verse, although I'm probably relating it to things quite different from what you meant.

It's actually about your mobile phone dying, right? :)

1:34 AM  
Blogger Carl V. swam up to say...

That is great, I really enjoyed it.

LOL about the cell phone...I can see that!

10:44 AM  
Blogger jenn see swam up to say...

poetry is what it implies, sometimes...i won't disillusion you about the cell phone.

12:02 PM  

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