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self-analysis.
by Jared Fladelandi am the infinite,
po-nifinite,
magnificent scented boy of a thousand ages.
hear me splinter ear drums with a cosmo daquiri.
conversations relating between this marvel known as time
and missing space
leave me dry like dust
squeezing every water molecule I can suck from the air
down my empty throat.
i spend like thrift stores
and have nothing to show for it but a patched up soul. 12/14/2006 Posted on 12/14/2006
Copyright © 2024 Jared Fladeland
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 12/16/06 at 06:26 PM Hee hee, you are very funny and truly a "magnificent scented boy of a thousand ages"--that stuff works really well, and I can smell you from here. One wonderful (personal) allusion I got from the last two lines-- is that when we managed a thrift store for our kid's school-- an old women bought sweaters, took them apart and made an amazing many colored quilt as a gift for us out of them. Right thrifts stores don't spend-- but ah that "rag" would be magnifecent as a royal robe for you... The progression here is very good, and the dust leads right into the store. The humor and also heightened thinking makes me giggle. |
| Posted by Cristy M. on 12/16/06 at 09:10 PM what you're saying is that you're cheap but you smell great?...it's very good. it reads with a pop, which is always a very good thing. |
| Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 04/11/07 at 04:34 AM sometimes i feel like the last 2 lines... woo! |
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