No, I wasn't drunk
Last night, falling
Stairs carpet ways
Made in Bret Kong
With end time
Noodles plastered to your
Forehead.
No, I wasn't there
Last week when
I was stopped at the front of
Mahjong table
Mariachi Millhouse
On the way to where
I was meant to be.
No, I wasn't anticipating
Her eyes in
Dark black holes for
Nine black pods I just
Had to do it.
I wasn't drunk the night
The night those
Weekend men hit out
I was at the back I was
Sailing into your
Angles I was
Half gone like a
Wet road-warehouse
Kill of late august
I wasn't drunk I
Was watching and
Waiting
And no I liked it
How in the day I wasn't
High I wasn't aware
Not left her laugh
His hips fall dry elite.
Top marks Cristina, you've ventured onto a field I don't think I've seen you on before. The second stanza and the fifth are a rare treat x
ReplyDeletethanks a lot, you too are on top form...i love deal with him especially, its so convincing.
ReplyDeleteit's really interesting you say that, because I write a lot and only a small percentage of that I post on the blog, so what people see is examples of a gradually changing poetic voice and various experiments, and yeah i see the difference your talking about. i havent published many/any poems in this same vein yet xx