Friday, August 12, 2011

poem: cosmetic blue down

big baleful bowl of brown-eyed salary
the kiss and tell mythic edges

singeing the palisades

selkie cliffs skimming

by the missing riddles

i keep my sensible fashions


diverticular asymmetries, castaway

chops in the regal latitudes

velvet horn in your ear

can turn a phrase faster

than the fishy cheesy

presence in the Eyes of gods

down the Basse bus stops

filigreed digitation, if you

were asking the fools

to the right and left

you'd feel the evidence


the situation settled out

& striped through

the compound vagaries

the distal cheeseheads

the cosmetic blue

down your bedroom lanes

& you might ask

& you might tell

but the general's widow

has vaguer plans afoot

& she's halfway up

your juicy dissertations

inside out

becomes the only way

to bring it back

to sing a furry tune

a sizing merrily forgot

tell me one more time

is the lissome true

imperil me with a glistening


cash me in and skip

on down

your merry road.



Blogger anno said...

Maybe it's just the way this one fell in the middle, between purple shoes/blue railing and the wonderful Miss Riddle, but this felt like a mighty zippy poem, despite that "baleful bowl of brown-eyed salary."

Loved the lines "& you might ask/ & you might tell/ but the general's widow / has vaguer plans afoot." A lively dance, and lots of fun, even if you do get left standing in the dust at the close.

12:44 PM  
Blogger Dee Martin said...

sometimes your poetry train goes so fast I have to put on the brakes. I want to see the details in scenery and you can turn a phrase faster than those fishy cheesy filigreed fingers can move across the keyboard or my eyes can move across the screen.

Love that first line though I have a small bowl...very small.

I like furry tune and glistening truth - textures and sounds abound. I hope your school year has gotten off to a merry start.

4:19 PM  
Blogger murat11 said...

Dee: What a lazy janitor I've become over here. Time to open the windows, let in some fresh (wait, it's 110 degrees outside!) . . . okay, time to turn out the lights, turn down the A/C, take a cool bath. You are always welcome to turn the power off on these poems, as you well know. Put them on hamster-drive, rubber bands, set the 78 rpm down to 33.

School's moving along wonderfully; wishing you a wonderful year, too.

4:23 PM  

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