two centos, or: my two cents

Satan Speakes to God (my own title)

It matters not, in which voice life speaks.
I'm waiting now for my tongue,
some time to look
down inside you.
It is impossible to hide,
to split and fangs to grow in,
broken off like sapling twigs.
When people look at you--
a crazy bird, its song like
the dress you're wearing,
there's no turning back.
After an interlude,
bound to the waking world,
grounded firmly,
I fear the chemistry between us.
We seek solace in the tall green,
your backbone rigid like cold soldered steel.
I'm waiting now for my tongue.
I don't want my horns.

Aurora Borealis

In a fierce wind,
he slips into my bed
to gore you.
To ward off the chill
his skin wears a blanket of kaolin.
After an interlude,
through the irises of
an afterthought,
instead his thick arms reach for my body,
the whole damn bottle.
There's no turning back.


I really, really enjoy writing these patchwork poems. I love words, I love imagery, I love implied emotion. If I were a woman who sews, which I am not, I would liken this poetic process to the process of taking bits and pieces of favorite, cast-off clothing and creating a huge quilt. My cousin does that. My mother used to use my favorite old pants and shirts and turn them into pillows. Clearly, I come from a crafty line of women.

I think this recycling of loved objects is why I love collage. I have to use it sparingly in my art classes, because children seem to prefer creating something wholly new and all their own. Sometimes I can ply them with the promise of rifling through all my collections of stuff, but mostly, they roll their eyes and moan, more stuff? Bring on the paints!

I am now wondering just what to do with these poems once they are created. I am considering trying to recreate the theme, or mood in another, new poem using all my own words. I don't know if it is possible. Still, so far, I have really enjoyed the scenes these poem create. Of course, it is the language that contributes to the scene/emotion. Hmmm...

Anyway, here are the poems. Two centos, with lines from polkadot witch's "approach me carefully," Mariacristina's "Mudman," Paisley's "an afterthought," and Christy's "fashionably late." For more patchwork poems, visit Patchwork Thursday