The smell of blood where horizons lie
Reflections carved in tongue and knife
Deliver spines
and icicle corpuscles
Despise them
icicle illness corpuscles
So thankful to line up and lick the knife
In prisons where we're born to lie
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9 comments:
What is a prison? Anything that restricts our freedom and autonomy I guess.
I get two different images from this one - the first is the body itself as a prison for the consciousness or spirit or even our thoughts themselves. And the other is of an operating theatre. I get a feeling of calculated dissection - but of what I'm not sure.
I feel delightfully bamboozled.
Catch in a nightmare or maybe the prison is reality when the sleep is over...The balance of work - family - and our own needs, and our own life spaces get smaller.
Awesome portrayal of the scene behind the bars of life,that too in such a few lines :)
I just came home from work to relax and read a few blogs; Get my mind off prison, you might say. Shake the stink off. Your poem is so blatantly true to the prison life that I'm wondering if you've done time. If so, I'll have to report this communication to my beloved employer.
Jason...this puts me in mind of our present financial situation in this country, for some reason. It is very gripping.
"Reflections carved in tongue and knife" is a very effective line.
This gave me chills. Excellent.
Janey, Fancy, Sameera, JR, Kaye, and Kat, I very much appreciate you all diving into something as dense and obscure as this. Poetry is great way for me to vent when I'm feeling weighed down or pained by something. I like that you all got something unique from the poem! I will say to JR that no, I've never done time. :)
We're all doin' time in some form or fashion.
Amen.
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