The Hanging Man by Plath
By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me.
I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet.
The nights snapped out of sight like a lizard's eyelid:
A world of bald white days in a shadeless socket.
Breakfast-R. Jones
By the crumbs in my toaster some thought done gone and done it.
I crinkled the dark char like a paper fan in a drain.
The eggs cracked out of the pan like an eyeball popping and clinging to the socket.
A place of carbs and grease in the plunge of 15 pounds.
Good job. I also chose this poem for my improve if you want to look at it.
ReplyDeletei posted a comment with some creative erasure on one of you expansive drafts.
I would love for you to do the same with any of mine. Dr. Davidson did that for me and I got a whole new poem that I had not thought of.
What I mean to say is that when he took my words and erased, I had many new avenues for looking at the piece. Hope it helps you. If you get a chance look at a couple of my drafts that are just really busy.
Thanks,
Jeff
I crinkled the dark char like a paper fan in a drain.
ReplyDeleteThat's a fantastic image.