Today’s Wilted Spirit

The door, not heavy, but my arm
won’t open it against the moderate
closure spring, and desire strikes –

Suck me down 17 stories, through
the blue cements of underground
garage, through the wet clay until

I turn into chaotic French Onion
Soup and resigned to be beaten
by the thousands of personality

punches, ready to bend and flow
with all of the slice dragons who
think they are human. I look at

our entrapments of tired journeys,
and I hope they don’t dump me as
my age shows, dump me into empty

gutters where it’s only suitable to
drink and to die miserably in the
clay with the furry bunny souls.

.

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  1. #1 by Hawkruh on June 17, 2013 - 5:00 pm

    Hi Carl, sorry I haven’t read/commented in awhile. Your poetry seems (to me) to really express yourself. I don’t always understand it, but I still like it and am glad you share your words with us. A friend has suggested I try poetry. Maybe I will – inspired, in part, by you! 🙂

    • #2 by Carl on June 28, 2013 - 6:36 am

      Thank you for your comment. I appreciate anytime you can stop by!

  2. #3 by clinock on June 17, 2013 - 10:12 pm

    ….”with the furry bunny souls.” doesn’t sound so awful – another brittle yet brilliant poem Carl…

    • #4 by Carl on June 28, 2013 - 6:37 am

      John, thank you for your supportive comment. I appreciate it.

  3. #5 by claudia on June 22, 2013 - 4:04 am

    I turn into chaotic French Onion
    Soup and..i just love your choice of images that not only make me see your poetry but feel it

    • #6 by Carl on June 28, 2013 - 6:38 am

      Thank you, Claudia. I appreciate your comment.

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