Open Gates
I love it that everything's some sort of an extension
I dare no one to pay for me what I owe:
The devilish snarling when they said they will be nicer to eyes
I love its promise of daisy, its oath to a happy
Sleep tomorrow: is picking up of a dropped pin
A spy
I admire? It's declivity to smoothness, its lenient
Look at faults reflective of a spoon's back
Its temerity at defining my status, its coarseness
At the announcement I consider new lights
I extol its view of a forward, scraping of flesh, open gates
I dare no one to pay for me what I owe:
The devilish snarling when they said they will be nicer to eyes
I love its promise of daisy, its oath to a happy
Sleep tomorrow: is picking up of a dropped pin
A spy
I admire? It's declivity to smoothness, its lenient
Look at faults reflective of a spoon's back
Its temerity at defining my status, its coarseness
At the announcement I consider new lights
I extol its view of a forward, scraping of flesh, open gates
Labels: poetry, postmodernism, poststructuralism
Post a Comment