.
.
SHoooommmmm. ClUNNNGGGGG.
.
.
doors slide so smoothly in oiled runners
to boom in iced-up hollow~heart places
to ehco
to echo in those hallowed spaces
.
.
but my heart still tUggs at the lead
‘come on come oohn, hurry now
before the snow sets smoothly
and
you set smoothly
and
there are things to be
sniffed and barked at
and you are missing it all’
.
.
It’s boisterousness pounds
s i l e n t l y,
testing the doors for a chink
and beyond expectation,
I say:
.
. that would be nice
.
.
The variation in syantax, the mythical alteration of fonts, the fantastic pauses in punctuation, the sheer verbal effort to spell the onamaetopic …leaves many options to pause, shout, giggle, stutter, become challenged, and reflect –reading as the writing’s speech…
The snow has extenalised a motion and internalised another affected. Man’s trusted friend as the sniffer, wagger and the misser (misery[ier]) offers a symptom…(felt)
The opening and the closing, loudly onamaetopic leaves an insight of armour, as the figurative content(ment). The last line seems to be a cliche as: chink in the armour of verse.
Rendered speechless again by the wondrous perfection of your boisterous heart poem, Ebby.
Damn those heart beasts. Can’t we get them neutered? Surely that would solve a lot of problems, ha! Beautiful, Ebby, xxx
I don’t know what my mouth was thinking….. I’m going to invest in razor wire. x
I believe you may be the most creative poet I’ve come across in… in… forever?
You are pushing me to experiment with styles not my own.
I adore this poem. I adore your fearless creative blaze.
I would pay to read your work.
You are the poster child for the contemporary poet.