I strike—
thick.
Tin cans in a lightning bolt.
A distant cadence
but a little better
That much bloodied
Definitely wetter
A ten-thousand watt grin
I stomp my feet
and call out the passes
You bring the wine
I've got the glasses
In fact I might just
maybe might not
Need you after all...
Now that's original sin.
7 comments:
One of my favorite poems by you. Raw and brilliantly abstract.
<3
Ooh I liked this! Very very nice.. I love how it flowed, especially the last grouping..
"Tin cans in a lightning bolt" I love love love this phrase. The poem is very powerful and made me shiver. Great poem to bring in the new year.
It's such a dirty poem. I surprise myself sometimes. Thanks for the comments. :)
My, my, that is quite the way to start the New Year! Very raw and succinct!
Very clever, Cleaver.
Love it. My favorite kind of poetry is the kind that punches you in the gut or shoots your eyebrows upward in appreciation in the last line. You did that splendidly here.
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