Tuesday, September 9, 2008

American Sentences, try #2

I am smoldering in your coals, but I don't aim to be re-lit.


He is the vulture, standing over my corpse, picking me with his beak.


The heroine, not dressed in heels, or ready for her role, gnashes them.


Revolution takes wings, balls, hands- climb up the flagpole, rip custom down.


Scotch on his breath, he remembers, laughs at his ugly workday.


This cubicle reeks of burned popcorn, lunch not supposed to be blackened.


Baby blue dress, pantyline showing, I stand in front of the class, aware.

10 comments:

Misty said...

Holly love this poem good title too!

Brendanblue said...

Seven vantages upon a star spangled omphalos.

Crafty Green Poet said...

The first and last ones are my favourites, good selection

holly said...

Thank you all. Brendan, thank you for visiting!

Nathan said...

Holly these are so so good. I especially love the fourth and last ones.

holly said...

Thanks Nathan...I have fun with these! They happen very quickly for me. It's strange.

Julie said...

I love this, Holly! Each sentence forms a complete story in my mind, yet they could all be the same. I also love the fourth and last lines.

Anna said...

I remember that stink... Was that popcorn?

Cynthia said...

This poem is a wonder holly,
so unique and beautifully surreal.

holly said...

thank you for commenting Julie, Anna and Cynthia!