or The Art Of Love
the hoof
losing its way into clenched fist,
forgetting behind sunk talons
before these too follow trait
succumbing to reality’s gravitational pull
into nails
and that mythical progeny of copulating saber-tooth and wingless-unicorn
mops its sweat with my chest’s hair
leaving sour milk traces in my mouth
as it descends the altar
turning back
woman.
I clutch at your softness
fearing... hoping?... to find the abyss
it took me so long to fall into
and so little to climb back from
all the while cursing genesis for having robbed me of one rib
and not of three
for not having chosen dust for me
and flesh for you.
my plane is at eleven.
what is a plane?
my cupped palm a sickle,
I leave bare swaths across your skin
as I mow down gods and goddesses and ghosts and fairies
making place for the mashed time
mixed with that slaver indecorously populating my tongue
that I will use to kill your senses of propriety
and naiveté once more,
and this time it is I
who will choose the myth and the galaxy
and you will not know your being from Myrrha or Echo or Androphonos
while you’re looking for a god to scream at,
finding none as I finally kill
Ananke, and her Chronos cohort.
I hear a plane overhead,
and I find Chronos is alive
as I look in the mirror
and count his vengeful ruts across my face.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
I'm not sure I get it... I'll be honest. lol. I mean, the verbiage is very inviting and intellectual, but I have to say it doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Okay, so the title relates in correlation to the unicorn and hoof and saber-tooth and all that, but I still don't get how it all relates to each other. Does that make sense? Probably not. And really thats just the first stanza. The rest of it makes enough sense to me... the first stanza feels entirely out of place. Gotta say I love the imagery regardless, though it's not what i'm looking for at this time. Thanks for entering
-
wow. some mighty powerful stuff here.
-
Holy...Yes. This is Holy.
What an inferno you've created upon this cyber~parchment ~branded, landed softly upon your readers' eyes.
Good luck in crissy's contest, dear Scribe.
-
This poem is something so great and different and beautiful and provocative, from the title you use to your missing ribs. Still, I think that you have enough of them
and to the ending, that I must to sit back to take a deep breath and to think about it. Then to read it again. The middle of it makes me to smile my plane is at eleven. And the stanza before the last and ending... it reminds me: Don't look at the mirror... ask me...
This poem like the myths is timeless.
Adding your comment:
