Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Thoughts on thoughts

slowing at a narrow
Flinging bits of self
Across the landscape of paper.
Words make a break for freedom.

There is a breeze moving the humid hot air
kicking ripples across the stillness of water,
And like this blank paper
it is filled with teeth and hooks
and nibbling lips
kissing the under-surface,
showing me they are there.

But the things moving under the green scum
are invisible to me.


Brian Miller said...

the teeth, hooks and nibbling lips under...that is a cool line...fun to say as well...would probably drop the 'and' between the teeth and hooks for better flow....

Victoria said...

The way you being the poem with the one-word gerund-lines helps the reader to "flow" right into the rest of it. Clever.