Delicate pounds

dada poetry

The days pounded
upon my chest
of invisible baby held like a heart,
that was dead at birth

I see the same streets
the identical rage
the mundane purpose of the bar

But patient fish
as eyes remain cool
under the stream of time

This skin stretches
around the boundary
like water

I could watch all the movies
and talk of holy female bodies,
in a café or purgatory

That ideas are literally queens
and inherited the contemporary
love of possession

The days keep pounding,
a tick of brutal rational
abstraction and the irrational
motion of the problems
of life

The perfume of a cadaver
interred in an instant
where the universe
allows a glimpse but no more.

 

 

 

AbSURd PoEtry

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s