… your poetry.

By J. K. McDowell

December 2015

 

No one, nobody, no man – you need an escape.

A Cyclops of singular vision and appetite

Has promised to eat you last. Pour the wine.

 

The pain has passed but the terror still lingers.

You recall her fingers around your rag doll throat.

The unloving closeness where you saw her fangs.

 

A bottle of wine and a bottle of hot sauce.

So what is the missing ingredient to this

Personal poetic alchemy? I can’t say.

 

Fall awake – There is a breath from the other world

That lifts your spirits to unknown heights above

The mundane doubts of the day-to-day drudgery.

 

The world of objects exists without your blessing.

I can’t give you leave to pretend otherwise.

The world outside thought is heavier than you can lift.

 

We need the pretensions of the wine critic.

The quality of Furies, Harpies and Muses

Builds flavor – bouquet. James, this is your poetry.

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