Underpainting
To me, the landscape of the body is the land-
scape of every uninhabited place. It’s a map
that reads like some paragraph evening held in
place by humid hands. For every uncharted
vein, a poem is written for the tongue that
taste like the wind, or the wrists; a painting
in longitude, or leg. These are things I think
about when go out drinking—a collar-mine
flower, a centerpiece in high-vaulted stucco
nights when star chandeliers glitter above
tobacco clouds. And I sometimes know what
to say when I crane my noodle neck in mid-
laugh, when my ivory incisor/canine moon
on an oil canvas is complemented by art
collectors, flamingo con-men, and tourists alike.
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Pride Ed
Hello! Just call me Pride, or Bluebird. I've been writing for a little over a decade now. I won some money here and there, and I'm in a few books of poetry. But, I still consider myself a novice when it comes to writing poetry. I learn everyday! My themes/styles/literary movements are all over the place. I attribute that to my reading whatever I could get my hands on in my youth. Never limit yourself; explore genres and things you think aren't for you. You could have a surprise waiting! :P I'm gonna be honest; I only made an account here to experiment with the Poetry Genome, but I kinda like this site now lol My main platform where I post poetry is here -------->https://allpoetry.com/Pride_Ed (registered users can only view right now)
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