Plucking Strings

This is the first in a series of misplaced poems I’ve recently rediscovered. I wrote this one on March 13, 2011, while hung over on my friend’s couch, waiting to forget the day…

lithe, we play
that banjo

twang-twing as
night echoes of semi-
unfulfilled lovemaking
perpetuate our sweatlets—
blood-warm breezes
rake the deep ravines
craters and sinkholes of
your tree-bark skin

sing loud your
thick waves of
margarine, while we
churn, in turn—
a slick-cheeked commingling
born of striped beer
cans, dead music, and
fancy pressed-collar

a voice of clobbering
wagon wheels on your
prairie plain—rotating
in rivulets, down your
corridors, flesh walls, and
plush cotton fibers—soft
hot, electrostatic pops

I taste the way you
travel, dull bird
and I know better
because they believe you
a brilliant pink flamingo—
more pigeonlike
to me

so, I will carry
your secret, as I
would an ugly babe

even as your breasts
deflate like holey
innertubes—flat flaps
that could potentiate
to plump casks ripe
with fertile milk

the banjo plays
with noxious verve

then falls

4 thoughts on “Plucking Strings”

  1. I like poems that paint music. Sometimes I wonder if it is possible to give words such convincing melody that it can bring bliss similar to the best symphony. Great poem, glad you saved it from potential loss.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Brian. Though they (like this one) probably won’t be received all that well, I’ve decided to post a few old ones this week. I’ve edited them A LOT, but I feel like I have to nail up these orphaned representations of “me” at different places in my life. I want to connect these disparate strings and make sense of all my selves. I need to be whole.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I agree, our work is often an extension of ourselves. I recommend that you consider creating a long amalgamated masterpiece. It will probably take years, but I think it’ll be worth it.

        Liked by 1 person

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