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Behind the Green Door

Submitted by fink555 on Fri, 2017-04-14 00:21

Behind the Green Door

Amnesia the pocket serum sacrament 

blow dart dawn to the waking saints 
in a sun split perforate tissue.

A creeping yellow slow as subatomic
parcels, chutes lateral in jeweled stars.

Antibodies spun in fool's gold hold to
sugar angels arches; her steady rocking

sperm, a siren tip, hair ribbons;
a body and her release, orgasm’s

rocking chair flooded, shadow spindle
wood, locked sighs in paint’s drying point.

Downcast we pull acoustic chlorine's
loose guns to no effect. Bodiless we weave

in the Red Letter sewn to a target, notes
of a glass violin always closer. Our Icarian

forceps leak away as diurnal shadow,
All to the music box’s silk purr

Flypaper music bars holding the grooves
seen through De Chirico’s silkscreens,

white star bits falling in webbed geometry.

Gouaches wreathed on medusa’s head
her night music laced, her auroral doll roast.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
[This option has been removed]
Editing stage: 
Editing - polished draft

Comments

Geezer

Sat, 2017-04-15 12:11

Geezer's picture
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totally confused as to what your purpose in writing this is. All I see, is a bunch of words that don't seem to be linked in any way other than being in the same sentence. If I'm wrong and there is some meaning to this, I will be glad to acknowledge it. ~ Geezer.
.

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fink555

Sat, 2017-04-15 13:48

fink555's picture

You don't have to acknowledge it. I like it. It is language within language, so to speak, an attempt at a symbolist poem.

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