Friday, April 15, 2005

Hello...Hello? Is this thing on?

C'est Vendredi folks, and if you think my oui bit of French is pretentious, let me tell you I'm just getting warmed up. It's Poetry Day here at Wordlust : Paperfetish. You know what that means. Poetry. Crappy, awful, confusing, poetry that I, myself wrote.
Have a good weekend. Or don't. I don't really care.

Fake kisses,



Clouds, tufted and woolly
smeared at the edges, marble
a tin-foil sky.
The trees beneath stand
lush and green, and not
just green, but many
kinds of green—
Crowns of jade, of emerald, of peridot
fan against their chrome horizon:
Great verdant afros.

Neck unhinged, I
track rolling caravans
of cumuli—
crystal laden and
chased by winds, like
herded beasts on yellow plains.

Startled by growling thunder,
I know that if the sky moves,
indeed it lives.
And what am I,
but a grain of dust
afloat the currents of
God’s great breath?

Cindy S. St. Onge


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