Poems and poetry as experiential art experiments, created by a dedicated core, sparking consciousness river, word slurry. A harvest of poems and creative thought from a creative collective cadre.
Friday, May 9, 2014
Appeal
Unruly wind, spin-kiss this blue soul wing of mine and waft
me above coulees of cataracts, heedless
of my malaise;
catapult my wary skin skyward, heave this heart
into the hail's fussilade
where I might tumble into
perilous light.
In all my reading, I've never come across "coulee" and "cataract" in the same line except when someone described the Frenchman Coulee Rib. I love those words working together, and I know I have them in my notes somewhere. When I find them, I'll trash them, because I won't be able to get this poem out of my head and I'll probably plagiarize your work.
In all my reading, I've never come across "coulee" and "cataract" in the same line except when someone described the Frenchman Coulee Rib. I love those words working together, and I know I have them in my notes somewhere. When I find them, I'll trash them, because I won't be able to get this poem out of my head and I'll probably plagiarize your work.
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