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Everyother Day on Cottonside
by Steven Kenworthy"i am sorry" she said, "he is drunk &blind today".
[you
[&your thoughts ride themselves sharply on a carousel
[& mine,
[mine sit down; down politely in the dentists chair]
its all strange air conditioning:so cold abusive
the friendly office
fancy steel tool scraping the memory away
the carefully collected
&jarred up frustration of 811 million demons abstaining.
could you hear me? through my wiredshut jaw singing,
her digital voice bleeds in my ears so smooth
pretty
so pretty
smooth
i miss her. my cotton drums
pretty like sunday mornings
plaquely dressed sheep
gleaming canines with frames on walls
my only photo sits so still of you smiling
with that pack of wolves coming along
to make and then clean up the mess.
recall,
we spoke of needing to be strong,
only the brave
only the strong
only the brave
only the strong
only the brave
only the strong
the third time is number twentyeight on a charm bracelet.
luckily sevens were more attractive than a severe overbite.
a cardhouse of usherettes at the edge of collapse
i know its hard with all the drilling going on
to think,
this torture with reward stickers
&pliers. its crying at the seams
if we could only take turns feeding each other brightness through straws
the mintgreen miner might excavate the fun in this.
listen to yourself.
oh you.
you say such sweet things.
when there is sugar coated on your teeth
more gauze please
suction
leave the weak
crown the queen
it is time
for your walk into your next clouded dream
of aching. realising,love you are no cavity
during your salty red speech
& i warned you about the sugar.
escapefast the throne.
thailand or maine
to find your personal candyland of possibility.
as perhaps dubrovnik might have it all said & done.
i want you to
i want you to
02/03/2008 Author's Note: the mannequins hand that turned off the light switch
Posted on 02/04/2008
Copyright © 2024 Steven Kenworthy
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Christina Bruno on 02/04/08 at 04:15 AM twisting, tortorous...sk :( |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 02/04/08 at 05:49 AM Love that "fancy steel tool scraping the memory away" only the memory seems like shiney enamel here, I think it's a male Molly soliloquoy I hear ... you often remind me of Joyce (one of my favorites) in the way your associations roll and jump sheeplike (teethlike) into dream and back to what's going on here.... The repetition in the poem is like memory, the way we think to ourselves, especially in that kind of forced situation where the mind wanders, interrupted, glows with feeling, then back to the "operaton". The funny beginning, where openness freedom of thoughts is extolled, and brackets (like braces, clamps) left off but they are clamped in line into the chair, and then, we begin. Delicious inventiveness.
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| Posted by Megan Guimbellot on 02/05/08 at 09:44 PM this = deliciousness
beautiful and finished, move forward |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 02/06/08 at 01:47 AM 811 million demons abstaining... what a raucuous racket that must be! I so love to devour your writing, even if you put me in the dentist chair. Great stuff, Stevie Wonder Worthy! |
| Posted by Alisa Js on 02/11/08 at 08:33 AM This one is worth some serious contemplating over.. your style is most unique... aloha to you from this side of paradise. alisa ;-0 |
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