Your Plate Glass Windows

[Psychedelics_r_best]

Plate glass windows in your pupils,
Taking in the tulip light,
Bending in rafters and the showers out of sight.

Purple soft skin blooming flowers,
Feather lashes curving,
Around the pleasant universal scruples,
Wafting through our transparent bodies.

Only a pair resting in the rolling meadows,
That feather soft tendrils through our woes,
In the grasses that grow up between our toes,
And off through the heightless clouds.

And the panning universe of stars,
That wreath themselves in the supple eyebrows,
And infinite passerine feathers of space,
Reflecting through,

The plate glass windows in your pupils.

 

[(Wordy)]

This is absolutely amazing. 10/10. (10/6?) I'm stunned.

Reminds me a little of Luke Davies' work in Totem. A similar sensory intensity. Are you familiar?

 

[Psychedelics_r_best]

The only poems I can ever recall reading are Ulalume and The Raven, both by Edgar Allen Poe. I never really read poetry.

And haha, whats 10/6? Is that like some ration better than 11/10? Thanks though. (oh yes, I like to flatter myself , only I try not too.)

 

[(Wordy)]

10/6 = ten shillings and sixpence, the price of the Mad Hatter's hat. But I was playing with it, as if it was a score like 10/10.

It's pretty remarkable to me that you've read so little poetry. I'm guessing you must perceive things strongly, as well as having a sound understanding of language. If you have these things, I guess you're half way to being a poet.

 

[up all night]

I love coming in here and reading great poetry.

 

[RareForm]

influential.

 

[EntrenchdMentalist]

Gorgeous.

 

[Psychedelics_r_best]

10/6 = ten shillings and sixpence, the price of the Mad Hatter's hat. But I was playing with it, as if it was a score like 10/10.

My stupidity profounds even myself.