Raw Poem Post 13
11/19/05 10:27 PM
Untitled Prose Poem 14
Why is someone not turning off that damned car alarm? Two big owls in two different trees mumble prayers across the parking lot, and I can’t get all the words down. The trees have shed all their leaves and show us their slender gray arms—bunch of pretentious interpretive dancers playing a game of statue. The most indispensable soldiers know some cloaking spells and could pull them off if we had a few more pints of Hildegard of Bingen’s blood. The existence of monstrosities can be evidenced in these five ways:
1. A person cannot sleep without being visited by tiny fevers.
2. My cheeks have lost all of their color. My tongue is turning to asphalt.
3. His Majesty launches himself into the courtyard: hooks for hands, hooves for feet.
4. Roland shouts from offstage, “Bolt the door and snuff all the lanterns.”
5. When a car sneaks past the farmhouses, even the gravel won’t sing out.
Untitled Prose Poem 14
Why is someone not turning off that damned car alarm? Two big owls in two different trees mumble prayers across the parking lot, and I can’t get all the words down. The trees have shed all their leaves and show us their slender gray arms—bunch of pretentious interpretive dancers playing a game of statue. The most indispensable soldiers know some cloaking spells and could pull them off if we had a few more pints of Hildegard of Bingen’s blood. The existence of monstrosities can be evidenced in these five ways:
1. A person cannot sleep without being visited by tiny fevers.
2. My cheeks have lost all of their color. My tongue is turning to asphalt.
3. His Majesty launches himself into the courtyard: hooks for hands, hooves for feet.
4. Roland shouts from offstage, “Bolt the door and snuff all the lanterns.”
5. When a car sneaks past the farmhouses, even the gravel won’t sing out.
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