Wednesday, April 2, 2008

napowrimo 08 #2

no fish

the swift hoops are drawn through the days
though buckled
the trampled shams of the dawn

some droll contours in your hair
speak down to the waterfalls
down to dad, draining his oil on clover

hold tight now, commander. your bread is made
for not just you, but all of you.
and your wife
through clenched teeth knows her molecules.

steady goes the rough hands to the sticky keys
and deadly. through spilled drano
i go anyway, forward. or i would
if i were not so tied to the gaming world.

and that's why the days are quartered.
the sloppy ponds where you fooled us to fish
that held no fish.

be not so hexadecimally colored ye fighters!
the dances are not so seismic anymore
with sms
who needs slow dancing

there is this protocol that
you have and it reminds
me too much of dead maybelline.

3 comments:

Genevieve said...

I especially love the last stanza.

Matt said...

Whoa, I was about to leave a comment that said, "I love the last stanza", but I guess someone beat me to it.

Alex said...

keep writing you asshole!