Hasty the faint itch
of the shaven scrotum,
from the ether.
Such wild fingers
dancing,
but not too far afield
to be afraid
of wound propaganda
done in crayon,
truly it was Chandler after all,
rubbing the .45 against his chin
and sneering.
All so long ago
that the aftereffects
are only now
whispering down below.
or whimpering bellows
underneath the Parisian street
where the skulls line the walls.
Breath to hasty gone loose
fused to locked doors
bruised from weathered hands
tearful in the night air,
so long ago
the air smelled of soot
and ash
yesterday was tomorrow.
and we
when we were
but not now
were hasty of our hair
as I've said
and burned it on the pure,
a pile of genital and bile
stinking on the pyre.
Author notes
Written January 22nd, 2005
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found it.
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x
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Okay I am a little lost as to what is it about. I will comment on the other things. I like the imagery and metaphors of the piece. The flow was nice.
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Great piece although I don't fully comprehend it- perhaps that's part of its beauty
This is definately a deep piece with great imagery, quite a vivid write 
Keep writing, this is an original, deep verse with many levels
All the best
Pozo
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What the fuck? Phallic imagery in every stanza. I give you credit for have the balls (bald as they may be) to put "scrotum" up at the top. For that I read the entire piece. Pretty much the only meritorious thing I can say about it. Why do I get the feeling your wrote this in your basement in Cleveland?
Seriously, though, I'll always give it up for a postmod. Unless you're not one. It seems more like you have a gansta fetish.
Elle -
I think, oh shit, I always make stuff up anyway but this must be about something - poems come from the ether and wild fingers dancing makes me think of writing (but could be other things I suppose). Passionvine told me that Post-Modernism is WAY OUT and has been but .. well I forget the rest of what he told me but something about academia not catching up because those professors teaching Poetry were too wrapped up in Post Modernism (though I could have made that part up). I still get all confused. All the different labels when everyone all along is always just basically trying to say the same exact impossible things. Let me go back up and read some more. BRB:
Well actually, I think once I read this and I didn't like but now I do. Even though meaning is just barely seeping in to this brain (well the meaning I've started to assign it anyway). Of particular interest is the allusions to Time the:
All so long ago
that the aftereffects
are only now
whispering down below
and we
when we were
but not now
because that is something I like. Unilke the Worm who has left a comment about "don't tell me that is now and now was then etc etc on your poem over at the other place which must remain nameless here).
Well, I guess thats all for now. Oh besides I never really read that Chandler guy so I'm not sure what he has to do with it -- other than the bit of research I did a while back when I read this. I like the colors. Pink and black are a favorite combination actually. Though pink and brown is very stylish these days.
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"Would you convey my compliments to the purist who reads your proofs and tell him or her that I write a sort of broken-down patois which is something like the way a Swiss waiter talks, and that when I split an infinitive, God damn it, I split it so it will stay split and when I interrupt the velvety smoothness of my more or less literate syntax with a few sudden words of bar-room vernacular, that is done with the eyes wide open and the mind relaxed and attentive. The method may not be perfect, but it is all I have."
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I didn't quite get the message of this piece. I somehow thought it was about sex in some weird way. You talked about a scroutum and the like. I just didn't get this piece. But it was an interesting read overall though.
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I would change the color of the font...it's kinda hard to read this...I have to really stare at it hard...if the font was yellow or green I wouldn't have to squint
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Losing something once important? Now life is the better choice. Reminds me of my brother and his prostate cancer operation - flows well and easy to read -
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Hey who's Chandler? Chandler Bing from Friends? Ray Chandler the novelist? Could be Ben Chandler, congressman from Kentucky. Adam Chandler he's on a soap opera I used to watch. I think it's probably him. Can't be sure though. Hmmm. I don't think I can comment on this till I know who Chandler is.
Oopss maybe I can. In this line here, "Breath to hasty gone loose" should to be too? Maybe not. Okay I'm done.
Desiree -
so faint it can barely be felt...there...but mostly not...very numb...drawing in crayon again...you know there is stuff that takes crayon marks away nowadays...nothing to fear anymore...throw 'em away and get a nice old quill and ink.
Keep thinking that...almost like being castrated (metaphorically, of course
)...it is not in the present that the sting is so noticable...but maybe sometime after...the effects all a-whispering...
or the whimpers of others...trying to get past the gates...but you know, so many skeletons line those walls...hide behind the closet doors...past up in smoke...could have been's shmouldhavebeen's...and what was is ash...(hair burning smells very bad, by the way...yuck)
and the pure suffer...the innocents...not much more than a "pile of genital and bile stinking on the pyre." All goes by the wayside...ashes to ashes dust to dust...
ya know, the past never does completely leave us...and does have a tendency to rear its ugly head in the present...i say that all of it...should go on the pyre...bonfire anyone?
UB
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