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Retractor Trailer
These accents turned dirty
but they moved me.
Language barriers
always carry
a certain freedom
They entertain in pious movements
like a hand with a humming sound
in the dead of night.
Its tips sly
and wrinkled
as they brush the top of the
bedroom sheet, underneath the covers
And their secrets are biased,
tattooed with the markings
and the grain of sex.
Why do we pull back?
or forward?
Everything I have to say
is lying in the
fridge somewhere
marinating my every thought.
It's gesture getting ready to simmer.
This only happens in the kitchen
A half open bottle of wine
gleaming in sincerity,
productive in every possible way
of seduction.
A show.
And a foot step
back
into wet cement.
A knee
propped up by soft ground.
A brick-layer.
A clock.
These are all virtuous
but most of all temptuous.
So, we wait
for it to hit
the fan.
We wait for it
to build
into
second hand smoke
in our lungs.
It's a ban in our hearts
to love strength
and not weakness.
There are several brilliant one liners in here, I've been having a field day with them.
"why do we pull back, or forward?" --I think a poem could be written by that line itself. It's a very interesting question stuffed to the guts with complicated answers.
"tattooed with the markings and the grain of sex" -- There are three driving forces of mankind: food, water, and sex. Everything we do in our brief lives always has that shadow behind it... like going to the fridge and opening a bottle of wine (or as you call it, seduction) Probably unaware that you have just quenched two madnesses in one sure, convinced movement. But then.... you begin to eat the night: its purpose, its length, its sound, its mood, bringing yourself back into full circle.
http://pleasantlyfurious.blogspot.com/
"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.