samuel-joseph-chase
American
He writes of the obsessive and love mechanical. Study informs the snapshot of being which he records. These poems are meant to entice the reader into abandoning their sense of decorum. However the repetition of subject matter conveys an unexpected helplessness in a poet convinced of their own self-control.
Run my thumbs across your lips.
Your neck with skin around your throat
in very dim light. Height and weight work together
with the places you haven’t shaved. Scratching
the surface of your cheek tingles in the places we meet.
Folds face the expression in your palm
wrinkling the corners of your eyes,
leading me to believe how you were as a child.
This has been a clip, or a sample of him who causes a warm spot on my back when I sit near him, and how he follows me around wherever I go.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 7:12 PM UTC
I prefer one word at a time,
seeing the texture
and the feeling of it’s tone.
Touch every word with your hands
and know each provides it’s own sense
of momentary gratification. Having that aspect
of a word, with the capacity to produce what it names.
Try to understand how words change and build
layers within a greater string of description.
Drawing a line in the sand
that coils in three dimensions,
in an image told by subtle realities.
Black marks on a white space,
shading in the negative space,
sketching in the depth of perception,
more deeply than we should know,
Thoughts are hallowed out,
filled with generations of sound,
cohesively acquiring sense more subtle,
in a variety not seen with a passing glance.
As the word takes on meaning,
image finds color and form.
I love sculpting the harmonies
to sing sleepless melody tunes
of tones and scripts, high and low,
inevitably intertwining
in symphony to our mouths.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 7:05 PM UTC
I was
I was feeling
and I was thinking,
and I was wondering,
and I was hopeing,
Dad was
he came to me and he said
then he
and he also,
and he also,
he said to me
while he was
I said to him
and I pretended,
and I thought,
and I felt,
and I wanted to,
and I wanted him to,
when he left, I
and I thought,
and I felt,
and now I think,
and I wonder
and I feel,
and I want to say this to Dad.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 7:03 PM UTC
Walk softly away
My ears are broken
I suppose they couldn’t
Last forever
A door closed today
Many times in rapid succession
It was just a door
Slamming not too hard
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 7:03 PM UTC
Everyone has that one class where they don’t have any friends.
Too many people are talking.
Only every so often do we get to the point
or the need to point when everything around you
turns your spine to something even more benign.
Turning in ourselves to each to operate
and begin again stretch out begin anew touch ourselves passionately
we make no mistake in choosing our goals. For most without
ourselves scribbling non-sense without reason of bureaucracy to
much favor irresolute makes no stake in having inhaling every state
come make me again for not for wants touches so much begins the
ways open run away from the days speaks open to harm may lay in a
daze non other may take the mask of will will no longer wait.
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 9:35 AM UTC
There is a swallowing.
All the world is awake.
You are the one who sleeps.
I should tell you I am the one who is a disaster.
I will not live in this anxiety forever.
Losing my virginity was over heard by four people;
they gasped when I lost it.
So I had to expanded the definition of ****** activity to everything
your not supposed to do to your little brother.
He’s not wearing anything.
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 9:31 AM UTC
.Past my body is
.Behind you dangerous; I’m
loaded, cocked
(won’t be) Coming around. and ready to
shoot.
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 9:26 AM UTC