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Warren Falcon

Rookie - 239 Points (04/23/52 - xxxx / Spartanburg, South Carolina, USA)

Surrealistic Sutures For The Acetylene Virgin


'I think that poetry should stay
awake all night drinking in dark cellars.' - Thomas Merton


Look to the body for metaphor -

Look to blood, use this word
in relation to dreams or flowers
while silver runs in veins which
are usually streets or vines.

Breasts, male and female,
are stars, have to do with
a handful or feet to span them.

Abdomen, then, is a great
Milky Way gathering,
holding, expelling comets,
caroling colons' humming.

Spleens are bones
to pick teeth with, teeth
which are, of course,
sea horses or gravestones
bearing images of the Flagrant
Heart to tame this spot
of gypsum and flint, to charm
where Violin's cut throat sings
itself awake, one black breast
out of its fold slapping metal seas
against dropping metal shores in
Sidelight's shadow across this
hand writing now, slap of waves
mute in this stillness of knees.

So lend a darkness to gardens,
ancient pattern of a breast,
cloth lightly lifting, black on black.

From Her chest reveal a slenderer throat
that nods when she swallows
and names her peace.

The delicate will not pass away just yet.


Great Seamstress of Space

sew, please,

with fingers of dew.

Submitted: Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Edited: Saturday, August 07, 2010

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Comments about this poem (Surrealistic Sutures For The Acetylene Virgin by Warren Falcon )

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  • Rookie - 0 Points Brian Purdy (1/15/2012 7:08:00 AM)

    Fine stuff, Warren. Thank you for it. Glad to find (at least) one of yours which did not wear out my (infinitely variable/sometimes dubious) capacity to concentrate. I expect I shall find others similar so will continue peregrination (we are raptor/captor/captive always, no?) on this and other occasions. (Report) Reply

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