Unpack Poetic

Can’t hear things well if they are things whispering. Nothing gentle to
hand on back of hand. A horsehair bow across gut string.

A heart is a physical object singing in the chest. Chamber doors
oxygenating blood rushing through. Salmon through river climb.

When one writes of light as a painted smile across face. You call bullshit
to the interpretation. A post re-posted significant meme image locked to
words.

Speak of Soul? Sounds like a grifter’s hustle. Don’t do it.


Anyways, you try to place yourself into the nature poetry experience.

In your nature placement, you’re constantly thinking of how you don’t like
to shit outdoors. You like a toilet throne and a stall and toilet tissue.

Your mind ruins beautiful poetry expressions by expressions before a
flush. Yes, if you see a nature painting you ponder a spot to express self.
Think of hole digging and burial afterward. A courtesy thing. Some mass
crushing flowers. Or smeared across a granite slope. Is not a waterfall one
constant flush?

You mean, if you were to see this world through black-light vision,
knowing everything covered in shit, this planet would be a beautiful glow.

More Poems by Trevino L. Brings Plenty