Come In Come in I see you Sad, sick, thoroughly disturbed An imbricate mirror for this dead, new world Its false life plays upon your face Like a sappy, sloppy picture show Reeling eternal Feeding, frenzied, sucking all spirit, time and truth away But aren't the lights so pretty? Deceptive, forgetful, vain? I see the whimsy their shades project across your vacant eyes Now as before Disemboweled and soulless Reflecting bitter decay Now as always Caustic and corrosive Yet another painted corpse Fit for presentation Waxing perfection
Naomi Pace (New Rochelle, NY). Coming on your listing in Poet's Market was a relief. All that cover letter crap was beginning to piss me off ... every listing outlining all the usual b.s.--we're liberal-minded and revelers of art but no this and no that and blah, blah, blah. After spending several years in limbo--sometimes, I'm not sure I ever came out, studying for my bachelor's degree (English), traveling, etc., I have not made any attempts furthering my poetical endeavors until now--perhaps, it is only now I am ready to take the inane on head on.