barbed
reflections of faces laughing
ping
pong
from the windows
the complexions and complexities
of their emotion
detailed by the trains shadow
passing
by
us
all
suddenly
washed
away
by the train vanishing
into
the
distance
faces turn pale
diluted ghost-like skin and vacant eyes
subtly layered over the grey metal track
AND WIRES
wires coiling around us all
squeezing the life from our bodies
the pressure forcing our brains
to spew from our skulltops
our entrails flowing from our arseholes
leaving only a barbed shell of skin behind
Cynthia Buell Thomas
Sat 21st Aug 2010 12:37
Once again, a super poem, wonderfully 'professional' in the purest sense of inventive images and the love of language to develop them. I think your work is outstanding. I have no problem with 'concrete line pictures'; it's very mod and effective.
For the life of me, I don't know why other readers haven't commented. I'm glad Andy has clued in.