Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Folds (revised a tiny bit)

It's the folds in your lips
that have me staring --
out of curiosity, though,
not in an ugly way --
they collapse & spread
as you smile and speak:
like how petals crease inward
toward their center

or socks
on the way to the hamper:
going limp, curving

inward and warm
letting the washer know
of the day's travels
finishing up dry
& new & ready.

4 comments:

Alison Fincher said...

I really liked this poem, Andrew! You have a mind for metaphor!

Olgasmic said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Olgasmic said...

It's the folds in your lips
(not in an ugly way,
I am staring)
smile
collapse,
speak-spread
crease
like petals
inward.

or how socks fold
limply curving midair
in a day's routine.
Then come
from the wash
dry
& new, & ready.


*this may be just me. Though your iamgery is so vivid, I'd love to see it breathe (and maybe in a way totally different than the gibberish above) without extra words.

Very nice!

Olgasmic said...

whoa, i somehow deleted the intro to that comment. WHat it preempted with is that I love the tone of this. I find a lot of the language tentalizing and vivid. I thought the structure worked against it. I would make some cuts and keep the most poignant images, and then work outward, but very nice! kudos.