Wall Street (view from back stoop)
I
Another bottle of water,
downed as a clothespin's,
stale blouse,
it is taken down by a neighbor dame,
who fancies blue dresses,
under reset lighting,
yellow walls, red nights,
II.
neon blank in genuflect,
for everyone is already home,
punch-drunk as,
melting chocolate,
in a teenagers car,
that sweats gas,
picking up flowers in its wipers,
engulfed by,
rusty orbs of fish grease,
on chewy paper towel sides,
faded and tattered,
scourged repast,
aside like few poker chips.
III.
a Hershey dress finishes my water,
pregnant daybreak's Artemis,
of tea
drop gossamer, alley ways,
where gardens grow out and hit,
bumpers,
like a thumping dog's tail,
that wears a dumb,
smile,
IV.
she carries the squash in a husk,
hat,
a corpulent,
grin wrought with whorish,
innocent, Midwestern,
content,
smelling of flowers I've picked,
and sweat I've lost in beat,
white t-shirts.
Another bottle of water,
downed as a clothespin's,
stale blouse,
it is taken down by a neighbor dame,
who fancies blue dresses,
under reset lighting,
yellow walls, red nights,
II.
neon blank in genuflect,
for everyone is already home,
punch-drunk as,
melting chocolate,
in a teenagers car,
that sweats gas,
picking up flowers in its wipers,
engulfed by,
rusty orbs of fish grease,
on chewy paper towel sides,
faded and tattered,
scourged repast,
aside like few poker chips.
III.
a Hershey dress finishes my water,
pregnant daybreak's Artemis,
of tea
drop gossamer, alley ways,
where gardens grow out and hit,
bumpers,
like a thumping dog's tail,
that wears a dumb,
smile,
IV.
she carries the squash in a husk,
hat,
a corpulent,
grin wrought with whorish,
innocent, Midwestern,
content,
smelling of flowers I've picked,
and sweat I've lost in beat,
white t-shirts.
posted by Marcus B. Fleming at 9:49 PM
3 Comments:
you.
commas.
Marcus,
Another break in the clouds and there you are hurling bolts.
I would get rid of the commas, however. They seem very out of place and do nothing to strengthen the piece. Unless you are making some kind of statement on the poetic pause as a thing.
You have yourself a chapbook in the making. When you have twenty or so pieces we'll talk.
I blame the English 10 grammar units. But thanks for the advice, I see how ousting them out, in turn, could benefit the piece. Line breaks essentially take the place of commons anyway.
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