Squalid Glass

Back to work now. A little piece about contrast.

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Looking for New Bedding in Wal-Mart at Night


What an interesting place,
this suburban church of commerce –
where thirteen-year olds sport short shorts
and baby bumps – and nearby,
beautiful people model themselves
in ten-dollar jeans. This place,
where some aisles are fashion runways,
and others are back alley throwaways.

...

The End of Summer


Sprinklers spit, crickets croak –
sounds of cars river the air.
Across the street,
a young woman takes out the trash.
She looks slim – her arms are old cement
inked by under-highway markers.

Shades and windows are open
in the squalid neighborhood –
the shaggy living rooms are cast
in a sour light when set against the gradient sky.

Holiday lights drip like icicles
from rafters ...

Never tried it, but here we go.

(Oh, and the statue is from Ozymandias)


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SOC(k)


My brain is a hunk of beef
trapped in a ziplock bag.
It floats in a bowl, filled to brim,
wrapped in the plastic sack.

My brain will kiss the slab tonight –
it’s red but soon I’ll burn:
My coke-bottle love,
my linguini-haired friend –

excuse my brash interjection, ...

This is a pretty raw poem, so it might be a bit jumpy in places. It's a bit longer than my normal stuff, but I've been reading Eliot and I've been trying to write longer things.

WARNING -SEXUAL CONTENT AND LANGUAGE! You have been warned.

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The Silly Girl


Silly thing,
the musings of teenage strife and suffering –
the sad girl who pines after failings
and peers ‘round her shoulder
to imagine ...

I feel I create too many topics. I'm going to start posting most of my new poetry here so that others get the attention needed on the boards.



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Untitled


Her tender frame –
slick and shaped
like the personality of a cursive s.

Her shoulders,
as I saw them,
tickled with light, spaghetti hair
and breathing – naked –
in the ochre, July air.

Distance ...