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






One response

24 03 2009

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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: