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(dark house)
by D. James McKee
Here in this vacuum/tube/thermos sleeve insert, my heart/soul/centre
whispers its pow wow pulse
in rhythmic emptiness.
Drum/skin/echo returns from red/clay/wall
unimpeded.
Bat wing/shadow/forms spirit memory out of place, impaling
on freshly blooded tines
the Old Words:
twisted and bent, trimmed and manicured, edges blurred into relative
...grey...
Light leaves off, night approaches, demon/metamorph/angels leer
from blank corners, till all meaning is
lost.
The dark house falls
not hard! but soft...
07/02/2008
Author's Note: UCW International Merit Award Winner
Posted on 07/06/2008
Copyright © 2024 D. James McKee
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 07/07/08 at 01:29 AM Fascinating choices for the reader. "impaling
on freshly blooded tines
the Old Words: these lines rock! I am intrigued by "the dark house falls soft"... Thank you, and congratulations on the award.
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| Posted by Julie Adams on 07/09/08 at 11:14 AM ...there is so much depth woven between the words and slashes...love all the images, like the pow wow pulse, and the ending is perfection! Love it, peace, jewels |
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