Orphaned words need a home (truncated limbs, may be toxic and shocking)

23 03 2009

I don’t know why I keep these scraps of words. It’s like when I was little, and my parents left me w/ our neighbors after school each day. The lady who looked after me would always be sewing holes in shirts and things, and there would be a ton of loose thread everywhere. I would crawl all around the corners for pieces of this thread and bring them back to her. Frayed two-inch long pieces that were useless. That is what these truncates are, flooven threads.

 

I hope you know what I mean by flooven, I think you do, you must.

 

Anyways, someday I’m going to take all of these pieces and make them into a massive Frankenstinian surreal da-da-ish poem monster. Its yarn rhymes will cover the sun, its button eyed verses will bring human tears to koala cheeks. 

 

What a melodramatic intro to flooven. 

 

 

Cannibal lady writing

 

your words

tapped merrily forth

I splinter, and suck

the little ant letters

as they are merrily

tapped and issued

from your phalanges

 

I’ll feed on yours

and grow my own

 

 

I gather words you’ve said to me

Like marbles in my palm.

I review each, carefully,

Memorize the shapes

And vowels.

 

I imagine these marbles,

Tumbling from your mouth,

Me, stumbling to pick them up,

They tttrip mmee upp

 

 


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One response

24 03 2009
bindo

Great intro! The poem was awesome and I wish you well with submitting and jumping through the hoops of the gatekeepers…I attribute my new gray hair to them.

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