4 Monk Discussion
Stringyleg pimp retired to the green
country corn air.
She gives last paycheque rolling
uphill booring the knolls
of burdenmoney past to her
for time the tears of grey gave up
now a smile a new front
a new him raw hate
musculas in forms to clear
good leg weather for killing
little taily mus or muzzle
fimble sun face forward
she gleets for the gone
the true glue ugly hopeful
rain breaks down in groups
ontopa the church
He him and her creeps in
greeted lonely robes
ancient paintmust shadow candle wax
he asks
"In the war of plastic shovels, have you earned your soul?"
She steps out licks rollysmoke open
him laughanswers
"There's nothing to earn but the world."
monk shock deliberate self sufficient
cue quick wise eye reply
but him left already
and she winks at a picture
you know the one
jesus knees prettypink lipped
for someone, you know it
the only one that matters.
Laura Taylor
Tue 28th Feb 2012 12:58
I might have said this before, but your recent writing reminds me of James Joyce (specifically Finnegans Wake), and Samuel Beckett (you must have read Ping? - if you haven't, you should, it's fucking brilliant).
With Finnegans Wake, I found that I understood it by just letting the sonics wash over me, and this writing seems to work the same way - really well done!
The experiments as a whole are hugely inspirational Kealan. It's partly because of you doing this that I decided to try and change my own writing, to see what else I could do, instead of just waiting for it to happen, so thanks man :)