Poetry Thursday: Humiliation Complete
So said the Smiths.....
"Spending warm Summer days indoors
Writing frightening verse"
And so say I.
"Spending warm Summer days indoors
Writing frightening verse"
And so say I.
Museum
Solitary as a blade of grass in a lawn
Bubble in the bottom of a cold
maple syrup can.
Full of empty sweetness, deolate fears
looking ahead at crucifying years
of joy and sorrow and terror in a
Russian roulette of time.
Vacuous, haunted, tense pasted-on remarks
for open display,
And a velvet-glove only policy for
the master curators of the collection,
Which seems to be growing dustier,
more spider-webbed and
precious every day.
------------------------------------
Almost edible,
as the chef chopped and
grilled things that were
really second on the menu.
---------------------------------
Ugh. Let's just all pause and shudder, shall we?
Solitary as a blade of grass in a lawn
Bubble in the bottom of a cold
maple syrup can.
Full of empty sweetness, deolate fears
looking ahead at crucifying years
of joy and sorrow and terror in a
Russian roulette of time.
Vacuous, haunted, tense pasted-on remarks
for open display,
And a velvet-glove only policy for
the master curators of the collection,
Which seems to be growing dustier,
more spider-webbed and
precious every day.
------------------------------------
Almost edible,
as the chef chopped and
grilled things that were
really second on the menu.
---------------------------------
Ugh. Let's just all pause and shudder, shall we?
1 comment:
if you mean "pause and shudder" because you think the poems are bad, then i absolutely won't.
i like their matter-of-factedness (i just made up a phrase!) - and the invocation of museums.
Post a Comment