let’s draw blood

a028

blood transfusion in a fucked up poem:

eyes meet, hearts melt into puddles of misery,
a guy shot a man, and a man a guy
at midnight when the sky was pistachio-green
and earth slightly shifted beneath their feet.

love is common place – words are the dregs
of tea left in my battered mug, hugs are given up
in arms that rattle like broken windows, and

they dare say,

*“This is not what we came to see…”

.

.

*”This is not what we came to see” is quoted from Brian Patten’s poem The Projectionist’s Nightmare.
Linking it up with Poetry Pantry and With Real Toads.

Image source

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29 thoughts on “let’s draw blood

  1. There is a beauty in this poem which is hard to define but it is definitely there – fucked up or not – words are the dregs
    of tea left in my battered mug..sprang out for me.. i suspect they maybe more than that

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  2. An energy of dissolution is still energy of a sort, and every friction brings heat along with the scrape and seep of its burn–love especially the pistachio green sky, such a sign of endtimes, tornadoes, the whole holocaust we dish up for ourselves…the whole poem is tight as a drum.

    Like

  3. Susan says:

    Oh, the tea leaves! Some believe, some don’t–but if those dregs are our only tool we’d better proclaim them as loud as this. POW! I’ve been missing your poems.

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  4. WOW
    you stole all the imagery cookies from the jar; I fear there are non left for other writers.
    I really enjoyed this Anmol and; thank you for dropping in at my Sunday Lime today.
    You should consider linking in some times and use my blog button on you blog when you do

    much love…

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  5. WOW! This poem is so powerful I would have to quote all the lines back to you, to say which I liked best. But words as the dregs of tea in a battered mug stand out the most. Wonderful writing!

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  6. Sounds like our Houston, Texas. Most years we are second, per capita for sure, to Chicago in shootings, New Orleans before the flood was worse.
    ..

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  7. Rosemary Nissen-Wade says:

    Interesting pic, well-chosen for this vivid poem. I too loved the dregs …mug lines best of all, but all the images, and the mood, are striking.

    Like

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