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Behind the Green Door
Behind the Green Door
Amnesia the pocket serum sacrament
blow dart dawn to the waking saints
in a sun split perforate tissue.
A creeping yellow slow as subatomic
parcels, chutes lateral in jeweled stars.
Antibodies spun in fool's gold hold to
sugar angels arches; her steady rocking
sperm, a siren tip, hair ribbons;
a body and her release, orgasm’s
rocking chair flooded, shadow spindle
wood, locked sighs in paint’s drying point.
Downcast we pull acoustic chlorine's
loose guns to no effect. Bodiless we weave
in the Red Letter sewn to a target, notes
of a glass violin always closer. Our Icarian
forceps leak away as diurnal shadow,
All to the music box’s silk purr
Flypaper music bars holding the grooves
seen through De Chirico’s silkscreens,
white star bits falling in webbed geometry.
Gouaches wreathed on medusa’s head
her night music laced, her auroral doll roast.
Comments
Geezer
Sat, 2017-04-15 12:11
I am...
totally confused as to what your purpose in writing this is. All I see, is a bunch of words that don't seem to be linked in any way other than being in the same sentence. If I'm wrong and there is some meaning to this, I will be glad to acknowledge it. ~ Geezer.
.
There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.
fink555
Sat, 2017-04-15 13:48
Sorry you didn't get it
You don't have to acknowledge it. I like it. It is language within language, so to speak, an attempt at a symbolist poem.