Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.
city air
Your hair twists against
the milky sun of a high window
like the newborn snakes
of a wild eyed farmer.
or this is how it seems
to me, one who can never
move from the pulpit
can never be fresh enough
to rise and catch you
your face moves in
wrinkled transits of shadow
each time you lean closer
the shade thickens
and I know what you’re thinking
Editing stage:
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.
Comments
c lynn brooks
Wed, 2020-05-13 14:55
Pata
your first line is a bit confusing " your hair twists against' the milky sun of a high window ( this could be used as one line)
perhaps it is your phrasing that makes it such
the rest of the poem can stand as it is
Chrys
check out our chat room open to all 24/7
Gracy
Wed, 2020-05-13 15:51
I agree that it's confusing,
I agree that it's confusing, but then pataphysique is always that way. Enjoyed, none the less. Makes one go into a reverie.
*
*
*
"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury