a descent into poetry insanity |
don’t worry ‘bout the setting, cast, or plot you’ll try to follow it, to no avail— your part is to join this complex knot . . . you’ve landed in the middle of the tale. her mother’s father’s mother taught her son to sharpen tongues and poison with his wit— this legacy of pain your heart has won, so, will you join the middle of the script? she loves—but think, can you join lives with this? the dis-function is patently unreal— will you face the gauntlet for your lover’s kiss? or leave her in the middle of the meal? I started with the last line of the first stanza, and then tried to figure out how to get there. I think it might be still unfinished . . . but I'm not sure where to twist it, next. I think I got here considering my own family (we aren't cruel, but dinner conversations run wild when we're all together) and the idea of entering a new family in the middle, which most people do (of course, some people marry childhood friends, but still . . .) and it just ran away from me a bit, especially the middle. But my head hurts. I'll have to look at it again some time when allergy season isn't trying to kill me. |