The castle loomed through another persons dream
A shadow that hid behind the lashes of tight lids, where their vague swelling walls
Recalled moments that twisted oceans so droplets began
Walking on skin, essence
Of all things that seemed to crawl up out of thin air
Birthed as though mother from child, seeding out of wet green wings
You were trapped and screaming, your voice lost with the path
Upwind on twitching legs that God himself reached towards to pull
From sticky paper, to keep going, architecture of thick folding quilts
Hinged on the peeling skins of blazing bruised fruit
Clay balls in a swinging planetary orbit
Life and earth that dangled from a ceiling fan on string, everything inside
Ears that ticked on a small dainty rose cord
I had to read this one a few times, before approaching it from a surrealistic view, similar to Breton’s “Automatic writing” imagination allowing words to flow organically.
ReplyDeleteYou read them one word at a time =]
ReplyDeleteI stepped with care and apologise if my comment is a poor one
ReplyDeleteno way... I enjoyed your comment! I always appreciate honesty, this ((idk)) it might not be done, I may not have let it take all the twists and turns it could have
ReplyDeletePlenty of twists and turns, we have to sign them off somewhere & give the rest to the reader? As Groucho said "outside of a dog a book is a man's best friend. Inside a dog it's too dark to read" :)
ReplyDelete