(no subject)

[andalus]

my heart goes down
stays
around my ankles

oh you
vile
organ of clichés

i go with you
how can i not
you are where i walk

you touch me
to the earth, you
feel the beatings

of caves
and
wells

how can i follow my heart
it always leads me here
where i am

where are you
you that i would hold
where are you in this

i would walk
but the heart
trips

sinks to the earth
the rocks
where i know i am

and home
buried
like tubers

Comments

[absolutleybill.livejournal.com]

Sorry to intrude, but I ran across your journal by bouncing from another...very nice poetry. This one in particular really strikes me - I think one of my biggest problems in my poetry is difficulty with consistent images, but you pull it off beautifully. Quite the command of language you have there...oh, and nice eliot reference (modernism is my only love).