Lisa sat on the unfinished arm
of the space station
the plasteel globe
webbed with aluminum
a piece of twisted glass
clutched in her hand.
as she gazed on the shrinking jungle
down below.
The hiss in the air vents,
the thumps of the circulating pumps,
the soft hum of the electrics,
the stars were out tonight,
the unfinished arm
she felt, was bleeding
In a list
Please tell me what you think
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There was this competition in the paper a few weeks ago saying they were going to send a child's poem to the moon or project it onto the moon or something. I told this kid I know who's pretty good at writing and he said "what would I win" I said "well your poem near the moon and that" and he goes "I'd need paying if they wanted to use my work". He's 8. This poooom reminded me of that because it's spacey and gushing away from the jungle and the arms gushing out metal and cogs and glass and blood - I just mean - it isn't fair to rip someone out the jungle and shove them in something that looks like a washing machine but but but but everyday we're all ripping up jungles and plopping metally spacestation type things in their place and all the green's shrinking away which in my theory had stuff to do with little boys wanting money not moons. What on earth. This poem feels like a sad cartoon. Someone said futuristic. I don't fink it's futuristic. Not really. Hmmm. I dunno.
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Who is Lisa?
Why don't you love me anymore?
... the stars were out tonight,
... my favourite line.
Maria -
use no nails.... or expanding foam...... fills in all the gaps....
exsanguinated poetry is quite sad ....
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excellent
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Futuristically Well Done
If a globe was made out of plasteel, why would it need to be webbed with aluminum, especially if it was for extraterrestial use? You just introduce a plethora of sealing issues when you construct something in this manner. Sounds like I may have discovered the source of the bleed!
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Lisa was here.
xo
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