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A poem: Slicked

He traced Bermuda against backsides
smiled from the corners
slicked his marks and
left them commenting on his good upbringing.

He blew into town one day
out the next
lookin' to settle down
post-next. trick.

He traced Bermuda against backsides.
lost all of his maps
in ditches.

We pieced it like a puzzle
the curlicues, misplaced signatures
- the dollhouse
He was 14...
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VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
malloreigh:
yo, comment replies usually go in the commenter's own journal!
that is all.
baudot:
What's the current status of Perfect? I just caught the post in the Steampunk group now, too late, but am intrigued.
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This, a poem I'm writing halfway through the Orton-Gillingham tutoring practicum.

Daily Exercises

I sit across the table from her
and ask her to spell poison.
Her eyes scan mine and my eyes scan
the bruises beneath hers.
For a second, I'm hoping she'll say
You can't spell poison. It doesn't let itself be owned in that way.
Poison isn...
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viking:
i really liked your poem, especially this line: "and takes its name out of your letters."
your whole profile is awesome. you must be a really cool guy i think.
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A poem I wrote recently, about the damages I've seen present in preparation for the 2010 Olympics.


The Trouble With Vancouver


The Ocean sycophantic
as two men drearily lay down
one woman lies awake in a pitched tent (city park)
wondering who will fix her
neither man shows up

And we promise We promise that
free trade and open borders
francophone gymnasts and whistler...
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