The light - a dominatrix to speculate
silver forrests sheening backwards,
scathing showers and vacuuming rainbows;
Dew drop delicious to
eighth grin beating like sex
slowed to perfection as a painting
that smiles.
Limbs are liquid
and
Death is cool
to one who tempts the backyard in well,
leaves brush the thigh and
throat
and silk is sleep. Honey will be
suffocating your spine
like the Seine.
Again, a strange collection of words which have a feel to them when combined that is your style. you can put your hand in the bag and take out what you want. It may not be the most acessible of poetry but it certainly is rich, great Win x
Would you give a simple paraphrase of this poem so that I may understand how your mind and its imagery works? Then I will be able to appreciate your other poems.
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Marianne Louise Daniels
Tue 21st Jul 2009 23:53
erm, I think Win said enough. My sentences always appear abstract because i am pulling at the loose thread of my sleeve and all the words they get stuck when i get knotted up. ha...erm, i like the feel of words and I THINK, not always sure, that I brainstorm connotations and sounds...I dunno, my mind is quite a jamboree cynthia! thanls for comments.x