a subclavian wince

[paperleaves]

auto da fe the innocent lay in ladles of twine
as the guilty sip on brandy
spring water and a curse for the legs of angels
they lean on green apple graves
waiting
for the cast of purity to suffer
the composure of kings, and the clothes of lions
a simple signature engraved in the mud
i'm waiting for you in the eaves of tomorrow
nearly nipping at your trembling mirrors
the impetus of pharoah's clubs and catalysts of vestiges
our bones don't seem so outdated when
they're in glass cases deprived of oxygen
we will remain immortal in name and favor
but all there really is
is fire

[breathtest]

this is an exciting poem and with all your poems you really make that stream of consciousness work
i like the line 'spring water and a curse for the legs of angels'.

I look forward to each of your new poems. They remind me of the beat generation writers. The spontaneous prose that Jack Kerouac used.

[paperleaves]

That is an extremely valuable compliment that I will remember forever. Kerouac was my first inspiration :) Thank you!!!

[PrinceMyshkin]

So you've been back to the store of Infinite and Surprising Images and have come back with several filled-to-the-brim bags!

I feel a bit churlish singling out any of this remarkable flow but I was especially taken with:


i'm waiting for you in the eaves of tomorrow
nearly nipping at your trembling mirrors

and


but all there really is
is fire

Yes! All there really is is the fire of inspiration, the courage and even the eagerness to give oneself over entirely to one's imagination. With such a rich inner life when do you ever have the time to make yourself a sandwich (vegetarian, I'd guess) or (pardon the language) take a pee?

[paperleaves]

My dearest PrinceMyshkin, thank you for your compliment :) I love how you made the connection between fire and the fire of inspiration. You put things so eloquently, your words are poetry all of the time!