Driving the
Rusty needle
Under the skin
Glad that the high will soon commence.
Figures of Speech:
A fuzzy slinky
hops through my garden
and steals my last
orange carrot.
Poem Engine:
How the earth is and in the sacred woods:
The crow acts as a plume of dark blue with fair hair;
those snarling monsters does he sink;
and among water-lilies! of black devils and black wolves!
The wind kisses her breasts oh flower-flesh.
- a nest of mad kisses, down the long black river.
The wolves howl back great conquering black eyes.
- sky is hell-red i long for the time.
How the earth is, and in the sacred woods
under the light of under your white skin
blood of green trees like black;
I no longer felt myself, and distances from that time,
devouring the green azures where low-hanging sun speckled
drowned men sank, i hung there
by Jessica & Arthur Rimbaud
Free Verse:
The wind might ease;
the sun might shine,
but the leaves have turned
a rusty gray.
Soon the wind will howl;
the sun will die.
Fall will begin
then end in a
snow-covered Hell.
My days will be over
and I will sleep on a
tortuous, bitter
long day.
The sun will have died
and all that’s left-
my old brittle bones
under white snowflakes.
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