Hey guys, I decided to start a new series titled revision week. I'm posting a single poem today, something off the top of my head, and then with each succeeding day, I will revise the poem, just to see how different it can become. Basically, I'm playing masturbatory telephone with myself. It's fun; you should try it.
she was once a thing of paper dressed in stiletto heels, climbing
sidewalk scenes against the duress of a red dress.
and I was a wheel left in a junkyard, kicked
and crudded over with mud, dreaming of ocean crest.
she tells me, oh we are not so long in time to believe we can have heaven. but she says a lot of things;
I smell of the fall, I smell of something lost on the wind.