Tuesday, December 06, 2011


Category: Poetry/Lyrics

I heard that starfish
turn their stomachs inside-out to eat -
pop their digestive systems out of their mouths,
easy as a slow tongue,
absorb what’s worth eating, worth keeping.

And yet,
      through our scribbles, sketches, songs, the shake and shimmy
of our external parts
we’re exposing our innards - laying our guts
on the metaphorical table
in hopes of reeling in the good stuff -
the ancient, good-as-new light of stars
or the whisper of welcome snow
or every species and strain of love.
We eat the world’s ecstatic chaos, and it’s
damn tasty.

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Old Comments

  • I’m no poet! I like this, maybe because I agree with the sentiment it conveys (I think?) that we expose ourselves when jotting down our little tales of woe and/or comedy.

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  12/14  at  11:20 PM
  • Yep, that’s basically what I was trying to convey. Glad it made sense!

    Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)  on  12/15  at  12:16 PM
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