Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Tempest Brew- Three Poems


Rooms & Tables

these are the
rooms and tables
and the sand floor
where we were
when we heard
the worst news

this was the place
you sat next to me
wordless
because you were
inept



Manners

it's not kind
to put down figurative
language;
it's like my ass
hurting;
imagery need bear no
grave insult
nor kind of attack;
the bulwark of metaphor
and the transposition
of you onto object;
lest we be chained
to mediocre dialogues
still bound by mistake.



Control Room

the way he talks
you can tell it's like
a little man sits inside
his head
pushing buttons like
Say and Apologize
and Leave
 
 

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