Contemplating People, I Have Observed
the vast divide between the clean and those who choose to remain unwashed. A child will feed pigeons, happy in the dust. A bull pierced through the shoulder sinks to his haunches. Never was red so dull. The female form excites the muse but all becomes ordinary in reduction. A platter. A bowl. A long-legged table. While masculinity resolves its headache in paunch and penis. Hills rolling unregarded. A study in plane and colour is as academic as mud and blood, piss and undressed lamb. We have eyes that slide past drooping nose, and oh so many teeth. Sharp. White. She scrubs herself in a blue room. He plays ball on the beach. Lover of sand. Here at last, a man with a guitar. To wake me in my grave. Carve your tune in basalt. Singing the seas to a crying woman. Where she reclines nude under stars. We cringe. We crawl. We crow. So little time to find the soap … Rinse the sullen crimson tide from your fingers. Ponder the inevitable fall. Cracked heels. Rise from bed. This life. Uncovered. Art. Kerry O’Connor Kerry O’Connor is the Creative Manager of a communal blog, imaginary garden with real toads, a group project which provides a forum for on-line poets. Her poetry is to be found on the Skylover blogsite, and several pieces have appeared in the online publications: Nice Cage, Verse Wrights and Visual Verse. During working hours, Kerry is to be found in a South African high school, teaching English as a first and second language.
1 Comment
grapeling
12/16/2017 04:11:02 pm
"but all becomes ordinary in reduction"
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