©2022 Michael Raven
cruel April brought me cast between sunlight and earth muddled under steel skies sheets razor rain and fungal outgrowth, need worms in woolen pockets limpid reminders of fire dreams failing to catch spark instead, weary worn soles cast the kundalini drifter forth over the edge and into those deep, forbidden waters licking hungry at a grey heart wandering sullied... ash and waste thigh pierced by a well-cast shaft hobbling fantastic things dreamed into being in vellum
sceadugenga 
Wow! Such beautiful imagery.
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I’m glad you like it.
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this is the sort of poem i use as an example when i try to explain what poetry is to my non-poetic friends. like, too much of what passes for poetry nowadays is just chopped up prose. so you have to be like, check this out–so they can see the difference. kudos my friend ❤
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❤ Thank you!
I appreciate that you notice that I am making the conscious decision to avoid prose poetry (for the most part). I've been obsessing lately about what should be *removed* from most of what I write as I try to distill the images to their base components. "Does this word enhance or distract?" kinds of questions go through my head and I find many words we use to be more distraction than enhancements.
Thank you, again, for such high praise.
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you’re welcome. it’s well deserved. ❤
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