| fly-by-nite lighthouse |
| It skulks in the shadows- the lesser places, the entrails of that we imagine is us- It's the erogenous esoterica we clutch to the side while slinking away- embarrassed, engorged and excited- the dirty magazines under the mattress. The desire to witness the fracas when two cars slam head-to-head- the carnage that follows, the limbs on the blacktop- that's what it is- Showing its nakedness- leering over shoulder at the mirror of the poet’s inclination to glimpse a rounded buttock- With impudent pride, to entwine its tentacles inside the mind of the writer- lure to warfare- ultimatum- a wrestling match for rights of control- Humbled by pierce of pen, in palpitant accord, until its seclusion again is breached. |
| ALL POETRY COPYRIGHT MB TANKERSLEY 2006 |
| versus the beast |
| Wrote this as an entry for my "it" poem... a Waco Poetry group writing exercise whereby "it" is the subject of your poem but is never overtly defined. Never got to read it due to my travel schedule. It evolved via a series of Poetry Array posts. See if you can figure "it" out... |