poem 0

sweat caught in oil slick

shake colour colour thick

blocked up and spilled to the top and covered

with a hot pressure rice-cooker lid

shake shake pain between bone a trapped nerve

thick thick

tic tic

bone pain back bone

i smell the good food like oil that steals the air away

from subcutaneous blood

the hand hurts where the nerves hurt

the table moved onto my wrist as they collide

as i fell

onto a soft wrist with my hard wood bones

hands heavily propped

at 90 degrees bent i’m carrying the world

under my wooden lid

i hid and i cry without face just the head

and in my head i said

i miss you feeling my sadness

with your thick yellow thread

when i cry or don’t cry

yellow bird

 

2 thoughts on “poem 0

  1. On the face of it, somewhat surprising that the author chose not to title this entry, perhaps after some minimal editing, ‘poem 2’.

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    1. this is an exercise in talking about something that is really going on for me. a poem is edited because it is for others, like a gift. a type exercise is good as it is because it is a way for me to say things i can’t say otherwise.

      Like

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