Sunday, May 04, 2008

artificial thistles


Some days she feels she’s filled with thistles. A prickly mouthful of mispronounced words. Meaning comes last, sensation first.

Some days he’s looks like broken glass and smells like barbed wire. A bloody perimeter, and no-one gets in.

Some days she’s packed full of autumns. Boots tramping brittle leaves. Bonfires flicker and snap and crack.

Some days he’s a walking spelling mistake. Well intended but poorly translated.

Some days I taste like pins but sing a song of threadless needles.

6 comments:

Ani said...

I seem to be a prickly mouthful of mispronounced words more often than not. The first sentence in this was particularly prickly and particularly wonderful.

[Hi.]

polona said...

wow, what images this creates!
i have been known to feel one way or another at times...

spacedlaw said...

I feel like a walking spelling mistake too. Problem is that I wasn't written using a human alphabet.

trying to write ... said...

this was amazing - I loved it!!!
xoxo
g

Crafty Green Poet said...

this is excellent, wonderful collage of images. I particularly like 'well intended but poorly translated'.

Ashi said...

well done Jem, I know some of these days - unfortunately