"innominate" poems
1683
That she forgot me was the least
I felt it second pain
That I was worthy to forget
Was most I thought upon.
Faithful was all that I could boast
But Constancy became
To her, by her innominate,
A something like a shame.
4.6k
A bone meets another bone
And you have a joint !
Joints are allright !
Cartilage !
Without them you couldn't possibly dance !
Imagine only your sacrum and your ilium
and no sacro-iliac joint
And no innominate bones
Imagine just a second a pelvis without coccyx
And your seven cervical
Your twelve thoracic
And your five lumbar vertebrae
Hanging loose !
How could you possibly swing your pelvis
From one side to the other
Without your pelvic floor ?
No more grand plié
No more passé développé à la seconde
No more attitude en avant on pointe
Farewell penché
Farewell attitude derrière !
See what I mean !
That's why I always say
I'd rather be with no bone
No skull no heart
Ï 'd rather be a hurricane
Wind has no skeleton
Wind needs no joint
Wind goes naked
No shoes, no underwear
And despite of all that
Wind is a ballet dancer, a danseur étoile
With no dimples in the back.
Wind can lie supine and stand upright
Feet parallel, legs stretched
Wind has no greater nor lesser trochanter
Wind has no right gluteus maximus muscle
No feet flexed, no ****** femoris muscle
Wind never gets pinched, stuck nor jammed
Wind is constant ricochet, yo-yo, meanders
Gulf Stream !
Wind is a catwalk model
Dancing its swinging walk
Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 6:50 PM UTC
even to hold a piece of a cigarette, people be staring at you like you're a rascal.
even to buy a piece of cigarette, people be staring at you like you're depressed.
even to smoke a piece of cigarette, people be staring at you like you're nothing but an innominate kid.
aside from being given the badge of being privileged well-being, and fulfilled the standard of life, neither smoking could be the best druthers.
therefore, she went undercover, caught a paper, and rolled it into a form of cigarette. the undemanding shape.
she imagined,
she felt,
she wondered,
the great feeling that emerged when one blow smoke escaped out of the stick, thought up all the life's crises gone in a blow.
just a blow.
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 3:03 AM UTC
Think it a wound
That has been cut open,
All of this
Pouring out of some person.
As blood like ichor.
Of Uranus a pouch, a receptacle, a quiver;
Time in consumption,
Like an arrow autochthonic
In the breast of existence.
Nursing the young.
Of Cronus a reflection, a refection, a ripple;
Time in digestion,
Like an innominate derivation
From the navel of continuance.
Bringing them up.
Of Zeus a reverberation, a spark, a sliver;
Time in expression,
Like an aborted secret
From the honey of speleothemas.
Shaping them out.
Of Apollo a radiance, a ray, a participle;
Time in extension,
Like an auspicious countenance
From the mucilage of angiospermae.
Birthing the echo.
Nov 27, 2024
Nov 27, 2024 at 9:04 PM UTC
Light
rain of spring
bringing
a new touch of green
to the barren hills
of the soul
the innominate raindrops
fade away
leaving
people with a
sunny day.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 10:23 PM UTC