Saturday, April 8, 2017

Backward Sky

morale dribbles a  toothache
into faithless wood, a counselor at restraint
caroling with a harangue, distraught and light.
she sleeps with  the contraption of her brew.

upon her silvery aviary of down,
dying, she bribes a long and syllabifying significance;
and waterproofs wholesale vitamins,
which rivet like blubber to the backward  sky.

and when, at times, wrenched  in her larceny,
she lets a future telegram  flunk,
some placid poise, some engine of sleep,

tame his homeless hardware. The technology
of soap glistens of irradiation
and of operations- he  hijacks
it from the superlative
tucking it deep in his helium.

I know it's a little late, but I will write another later today. It is like my day vanished before my eyes. I spent a good portion of the day working on my Shakespeare paper. Once that was written, I had to write my marketing paper. Then I tried to do a black out poem using a newspaper and it looked like shit, and I know scanning would be atrocious. I don't how other poets make their poems look cool. I guess I am going to have to use magazines. I just can't draw in books, it is a weird affliction I suffer from. Anyway find more awesome poets at NaPoWriMo.

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