So the idea here is imagery. Meaning will come, but is the imagery there, or is it flat? My favorite poems catch me up in it, that tangible scenery. Here are some of my recent trys.

how to begin
with the coiled woman
her shivering
spilling her names
drawn out veins of plot
used up vows
caged rages
white excitement of
long hands
tearing into sweet things


love
the pink door that fades once entered
the glint edge of silk cut at a slant
like that look from the corner of
troubled bedsheets starred with claws
and smoothed into sleep at early o'clock
fringing your head in perfect july grass
and fervent rivers following
warm rust rooftop mornings and film and coffee
downtown poems, soil of graves,
dim screens of imitation,
city crust crackling,
iron boxes containing maybe hearts,
or maybe roselilac dust
of funeral rites, strange customs

-Eala