Wednesday, October 27, 2010

an isolated night

a raging wind swirls
at the fabric fix
edging reality corners
when suddenly the center
of a tortured emotional
hurrIcane arises from sacred
howling dogs salivating
salvation in witness of quail
blood spilled on the asphalt
bandaid suffocating fertility
while famished tears
deafen drowning ghosts
under a shadow-filled core
ticking the midnight moment
nourished by a preservative
laden canned fruit charade
where an ancient canyon's
hermit crab crawled under
profit's calculated violence
wondered up by the sewer stench
flowing through the veins
of an isolated night
tattered by expectation's
breathless decay


Andrew said...

This is unique. I like all of the images that you have here, especially "canned fruit charade." I do wish, however that you'd take time to develop them more than rushing from one to the next. I understand you have a dense style, and I can enjoy that, a little hard to digest at first.

Anyway, looking forward to reading more in the future!

Shoreline Driftwood said...

Thank you for your thoughtful comment, Andrew. I'll take your point about developing images more fully to heart and keep it in mind in the future. It's a fair criticism. I guess it is part of my penchant for creating surreal and psychedelic poetry that leads me to those kinds of techniques. I often like to combine things in a way that makes a reader take in a lot at once. But like a good meal, after the flavors wash over your palate, you can take your time digesting the ingredients and extracting that which your mind finds most nutritious.