Hey, it seems pretty dead in here, but I thought I'd just post this anyway. I guess that the peeps in here really overlap with Poetry Writting (sic)? So I'l only post it here. Hey I just joined these two tribes--are there more active ones, and that don't have drama?! That whole fight on the Poetry Writting tribe was crazy. Anyway, hope everyone here is doing well.


The Frame Disappeared Me

Getting bitten.
I'm scared, I'm dancing on electricity.
The breaking of the skin,
that a puncture awaits me every evening
and this little bit
of sceptre, powerful
piece of pencil, miraculous paperclip,
the magic in this peanut shell
could ignite the soft white gunpowder of my bones and recharge a heap of me.
That this could be.

That I may instead
blow from the shell
and ash and flutter
upon street and
cement sidewalk
and emulsify on someone's upper lip--
this occurs to me also.

Could this work backwards?

could i instead shrink this time?

i can see my body
back away
from the mirror
in the long rectangle of it
i can sssee
ssee
see
se
s