Two-hundred and Seventy-six: Third-grade Tulips

In my dreams I wrestle third-grade tulips
and scrawl midget graffiti on opaque walls
while thistle down falls on Blyton mornings.

I strangle amaranth guilt, stroking cats
that aren’t mine, decapitating dolls I know
I’ll only lose. Β I braid hopes, folding

in shadows like ribbons as maroon
lace simmers on the cliffs of my id.
I tattoo forbidden fruit because

I am a pirate of the night, written
by Washington Irving, turning
teeth into Swiss bank accounts.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

9 thoughts on “Two-hundred and Seventy-six: Third-grade Tulips”

  1. I hate to admit it but I am also glad we are back to some regular programing :). I enjoy discovering what you are referencing and trying to understand what is on your mind.

  2. I’d like to put my teeth into your swiss bank account. Errr…wait. Is that sexy? Is that acceptable blog style flirting? Fucking poetry, I can never understand.

  3. hmm. what is the underlying thought or emotion behind this?
    There are so many references – kinda mind-boggling.
    but i think the “flow” is there πŸ˜€

    1. There isn’t really any plot-line to my poems; I think I just go along with a mood. This one has to do with growing up, I think: how awkward I felt, the incessant guilt, the insomnia, how confusing it is when you don’t understand people yet… I think the last line ‘turning teeth into Swiss bank accounts’ refers to a loss of innocence and sinking into anonymous autonomy.

      Or maybe I just threw some words together ‘cos they sounded pretty!

      1. πŸ™‚ okay. You are complicated. And I mean that as a compliment. I think you must have a hard time understanding yourself. πŸ˜›
        Still, thanks for explaining.

        And you’re right about the pretty part.

        third-grade tulips
        midget graffiti – πŸ˜€
        pirate of the night … – all very amusing

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