Thursday, April 06, 2006

Poetry Thursday: Humiliation Complete

So said the Smiths.....
"Spending warm Summer days indoors
Writing frightening verse"
And so say I.

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:

bee said...

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.