Wendy Grimsley's Writing for March 2008

generically speaking

smoke rings swing like widows webs spin
sat in auric layers like gossamer clouds
twisting grey satin ribbons into mobius chains
and i inhale

sweet patterns drifting like breath on glass
i am earth to some unseen sun
orbiting thought in my predictable path
as still as the beaten concrete below

i am lost in this damaging entry
this self created pacifier
an undenying but most invited irritant
that gives me the illusion of grip

ideas c…

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Posted by Wendy Grimsley on March 29th, 2008 at 10:46pm — 1 Comment

pie filler

put a cloud over my temple
put a shroud over a nipple
how do you cage an energy?

souls in porous surfaces
expand and contract
form fitting for the imagination
but what's natural about that?

the skin expands past the belt size
and i feel like that misshapen peg

try to pour me into cupcake paper
and tell me i'm a domesticated animal
-and not a pastry

ashamed of breasts and cunts and
legs and lips and
deep blue eyes

sof…

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Posted by Wendy Grimsley on March 26th, 2008 at 4:07pm — 1 Comment

Blue

clicking back through previous lies
seems an odd comparison to dwell
skin is conducive to this perpetual energy
and each wailing blade sinks deeper
but if this shell is for protection
then colour me translucent
i need to be overlooked for a reason
this treachery of pole position
leaves me centrally located
like that fly in the web that writhes and
flits its wings until it's devoured
if heaven is different for everyone
my nirvana is a cold silence…

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Posted by Wendy Grimsley on March 9th, 2008 at 10:52am — No Comments

St. John's Bread

my world on a 1:10 scale is the face of a clock
trusting in each digit like alkaline shelf life
as if recycling a calendar could buy more time

heirloom hocks weighed against the seed
(with the accuracy of appraisal) conclude

some unseen flaw hidden away in the setting
emerges like an old stain on white carpet
my pendulum god swings three bells now
like trumpets sound and herald angels sing

some glitch skips and history repeats
same-old-same-old…

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Posted by Wendy Grimsley on March 4th, 2008 at 11:10pm — No Comments

fifteen 'til nine

counting down free space
the biting weather
sits in my throat with the
sound of neglected alarms
these are all warning signs
time is a measure for decay
if we erase it, will everything bloom?
tectonic shifts make me feel like
this layer of existence has evolved another age
and i watch the palms peel away their skin
the twisting debris sits dead in the road
bobbing between the crunching tires
a cyclical dance of creation and manufacture

…

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Posted by Wendy Grimsley on March 4th, 2008 at 7:57pm — No Comments