if you read this
and call me brilliant
for that nanosecond
I stopped writing paperclips
and became instead
lightly curved steel
in my holding together
the curled sum
of so many pages
you have forgotten
(this is a poem
of the trickle down
because all that
reaches the page
is piss gone cold
Lightly curved steel can bite too Susan. Sink your teeth into blogflesh. Look into my eyes… I’ll give brilliant and up you a meaningful.
Damn, Lewin. I begin to think sometimes art happens despite our intentions otherwise.
Do we really care about paperclips? Or do we more properly care that we can twist them into a hidden weapon that can be used to open a jugular? Hey, there’s a medical device for you…
Art comes from passion. That is only answer I have.
Only thing I can say here is YES. An unfaked yes, authentic.
You just can’t help yourself writing well Susan. Try as you might.
Hee, hee…thank you!
You been reading Lewin? haha. Great…as always. xoxo
Hee, hee. You know it…
Did you hear me laugh? Damn good thing I wasn’t sipping on something right there.
Really liked the ending, luckily I didn’t let my coffee get cold reading it 😀 Sometimes I think about the bad poetry I used to read on blogs – which had the same effect as cutting onions and my eyes burned. And those posts got 50+ likes, then I found something well constructed and powerful slight complicated at time maybe – which got 12 likes of less. No wonder I have burned out a bit and mainly chose silliness over substance other than those rare occasions. 🙂 Oh now my coffees cold – darn 😦
Bruce–I hear you! Heat that coffee up again.
I do not claim to be a goood poet, but it’s fun to sit together and hack critically at each other, innit?
Bruce, that was so true. I find such awesome pieces occasionally and they get little appreciation.
Susan, nicey. I see we all joining Trent in the campaign against bad-traditional-art-being-called-creative-modern-art.
(In case you didn’t notice, that was haiku!)
*eyes rolling *
Hee, hee. Love this comment!
Glad you do. Hehehe