Author Information
Compost (19 Lines)
For Kaitlin
Author’s note: Between the collision of two extremities, poetry lies, fateful yet unbound.
1 “What sweet fruit plucked by the heifer’s mouth transforms into the fastidious moon?”
2 Dinner is served through the eye of a telescope tray
3 On the table is a vendetta of wildebeest pieces pureed
4 Rummage sale deduces tartar sauce upon the windowpane walls
5 Wonder of salesman dies in the fading sun light of the blue and pink aurora sky
6 Turkish delight is penultimate
7 Gobstopper shut up betoken the hood one up
8 Slavish knack origins give you total control beyond south of the range-border cutlery
9 Alleviated feet brings catwing down to the ground betwixt here and there fairly well
10 Gored by the doors stamping through the doorframe crying, “Please! I don’t know you that well!”
11 Iconography of the soul makes tidy lessons of the dark, of which there is no bearing to be listen I once heard the ocean outside my window
12 Mantlepiece cloakwood sharkskin navel
13 When my breath was coming out like hot sparks from a metallurgist’s forge
14 Free known invisibility sounds the guy who can’t get out
15 Walter is kin fever say ‘selah!’ with mystical fervor
16 Knocknose terrible denigration of the state of things
17 Carrion pigeons tear loose and wide those grating stamps you hide
18 To top it all off what more could you find
19 Let all man acknowledge Your goodness which lies at the heart of everything
give yourself too much credit
this isnt surreal this is shit. If you are fifteen or younger I will chock it up to youth. Start reading if you want to write dude.
Je m'excuse avec tout le bonne intention....
Yeah, my imagination just isn't at the level of the surrealists who wrote during the 1920s. I read alot too. I may not be the most able reader, but I read alot. And poetry is what I dream about--quite literally. Some of my best lines come from dreams--unfortunately, none of the lines here are from dreams. Anyway, thanks for the criticism, but I will keep trying to sharpen the intellect and imagination, as you have suggested. My only suggestion is that you should critique out of love. Love is the best criticism, not hate. Honesty is necessary, but love is the highest good. And I took a look at your poetry--it is really quite good. Better than what I can churn out without the aid of dreams and mystification. I'm a fan of your work.