Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

The Curling Brew

She wears a pelican for a hat
The feathers line her face.
She shops for clothes in old arcades
Where women dress in scales.
And every future she has seen
All look like bottle green.
Despite the fact that time itself
Hides in corners full of shade.
Her son she named as Milo
For his father was a Duke
Their honeymoon they spent
Lying besides a pale lagoon.
Where courtesans and pilgrims went
To hide from kingly priests
Who forever search for messiahs
To lead them all from grief.
But all they find and every time
Are princeling sons and thieves.
So she left the kingdom far behind
To search again for love
But all that she ever finds
Are messages from her gods.
So upon a cavalcade of bikes
She drove down to the sea
And there she drowned her sins
And cursed the tide that retreats.
And there she drowned herself
Beneath tides that time neglects.


Cocaine Jesus said...

thinking of EOTR when i wrote this, in fact i wrote two. one after the other. maybe not the best thing i have ever done BUT certainly in a Handsome Family mode.
well, i like it!


I like it too! I love the reference to the green bottle, the vividness of the poem, and the morbid ending. I love how the "drowing lines" collide into each other: "She drowned her sins... and there she drowned herself."

Enemy of the Republic said...

Dog! I was going to write "pardon my narcissism but this could be about me!" Hot damn.