Tuesday, January 5, 2010



I am growing less and less literal.
Words slide open and stay open,
sturdy as folding chairs.

The hinges have plenty of give.
The metal's groans are musical.
You can sit on them,

lean back into the cool shoulders
of alchemy. Let your feet rest.
Keep them elevated,

levitated. Put this metal in a trance,
quick, before it separates into
quicksilver, rainwater.


  1. I have to use the word "love" again. I love this poem. This poem is both a celebration, and an example, of the magic you are making, as you grow less and less literal!

  2. I agree with Annie. There are so many things to love about this poem. The opening of words is fantastic. The cool feel of the metal. The music of the hinges. And that last line is excellent. Wonderful work!

  3. I really like the way your mind works to portray the imagery in a magical, almost alchemical way. Lovely.


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