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by Indigo Tempesta

jack spicer died of vocabulary.
you wrote hydroplane, and i bled out.
beetle-pure and spilt port and all, i riddled and parceled out.
words are not bullets. words are nothing. you
are too fast. you are drunk driven. you are slipped
piercingly between layers of crimson muscle.

pinned to the pavement. pinned down with a thousand
slender pins. splinters and fingerprints. brittle
brittle time to limits unknown, christens
my flicker pulse and your burst.

islands: this body, these nerves, this lust
and cultured sweat: aflame, larval,
scattered. bridge me, let clangor of assembly
ring in my whorled skull.

bridge me. all this hallucinated beauty
ghosts you, as i.

01/07/2008

Author's Note: do please let me know what to do with this, including you, graceless ease, i feel you could rip this if you wanted.

Posted on 01/08/2008
Copyright © 2021 Indigo Tempesta

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Jim Benz on 01/29/08 at 09:08 PM

what can you NOT do with this? I could have fun taking it apart and putting it back together over and over again. wonderful use of language, if you ask me. vocabulary only kills you if you let it.

Posted by Bob Arcania on 03/13/08 at 06:05 AM

bridge me. all this hallucinated beauty ghosts you, as i. gorgeous gorgeous

Posted by Jared Fladeland on 01/29/14 at 05:05 PM

I enjoy this too much. Reminds me of something that I cannot quite place. But in a good way.

Posted by Steve Michaels on 01/29/14 at 05:39 PM

Stanza three is SUPAHchocolate and by that I mean I'd kiss it like a pretty girl! Gratz on POTD!

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/29/14 at 08:50 PM

What a ride! Thanks for this POTD.

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