Poet13's Blog

all the bodies i’ve bumped up against

the ways i’ve touched using my cock like a defensive weapon

                              one rod to rule them all

 

it is fearful out here in the field

this realm where poets can only converse in verse

                              unable to talk or touch

afraid of coming face to face

 

better verb to verb acting out various versions of how the scene is played

                    letting language do the heavy lifting

hearts too brittle to bear this burden

 

mistaking common sense for wisdom

                              giving voice to unformed thoughts

rushing my expressions

 

the faster i can describe it the less i will feel it

                    if i understood myself i wouldn’t ask you to

 

read this poem

 

try to assemble this puzzle in motion

 

each word a particular piece

the whole nothing more than the scored image of a fractured snapshot in time

                              Dorian Gray’s devolving portrait

 locked away in a dark closet somewhere

 

                    you can see it clearly with your ear

cubist syntax splashed utterly audibly

                              upon the mind’s subconscious canvas

          the living colors with which the world is whitewashed