fall through the park. This evening, it’s enough
to watch them fade into the night’s bare music
off between the branches chapped
and glorified with frost. He leans into his lover's coat,
a quick kiss on the lips. They look like they've been doing this
for weeks. Tucked behind the fountain where the birds
no longer come to drink, a whisper-fingered hustler
palms another six of hearts. The shorter boy
holds out a dollar—shy, almost reluctant,
then they run, leaving a trail of laughter
thick enough to eat.
- past versions. Thx to Busker for excellent notes on this one Magic
Walking through the park tonight, I feel like rotten milk
watching a pretty couple watch the stars
dance to their own music. It's winter cold
early this year; he leans into his lover's coat
like some Buddhist tree falling, slow
and mindless, irreversible. A quick kiss
on the lips.
They look like they've been doing this
for weeks.
Tucked behind the fountain
where the birds no longer come to drink,
a whisper-fingered hustler
palms another six of hearts.
I catch the look they give each other
—sly, almost reluctant
to acknowledge what they've witnessed here
behind their mother's backs, then off
they run, leaving a trail of laughter
thick enough to eat. A breadcrumb
for the moon, two dollars
shaking in the wind. I know a good magician
never tells, so I don't even bother
troubling the man to ask
how anyone pulls it off:
standing there exposed,
lying to their faces
openly
and making people want it,
making being fooled the point.
Walking through the park tonight, I feel like rotten milk ... too wordy. condense?
watching a pretty couple watch the stars
dance to their own music. It's winter cold
early this year; he leans into his lover's coat
like some Buddhist tree falling, slow
and mindless, irreversible. A quick kiss .... slow and mindless, irreversible...this is a pile up. Don't think you need all 3.
on the lips.
They look like they've been doing this
for weeks.
Tucked behind the fountain
where the birds no longer come to drink, .....nice bit of observation
a whisper-fingered hustler
palms another six of hearts.
I catch the look they give each other
—sly, almost reluctant
to acknowledge what they've witnessed here
behind their mother's backs, then off
they run, leaving a trail of laughter
thick enough to eat. A breadcrumb for the moon, two dollars shaking in the wind. I know a good magician
never tells, so I don't even bother troubling the man to ask how anyone pulls it off:
standing there exposed, lying to their faces openly
and making people want it, making being fooled the point.
I think 'thick enough to eat' is where the poem should end. It's a beautiful metaphor, and anything afterwards is a let down.
Walking through the park tonight, I feel like rotten milk ... too wordy. condense?
watching a pretty couple watch the stars
dance to their own music. It's winter cold
early this year; he leans into his lover's coat
like some Buddhist tree falling, slow
and mindless, irreversible. A quick kiss .... slow and mindless, irreversible...this is a pile up. Don't think you need all 3.
on the lips.
They look like they've been doing this
for weeks.
Tucked behind the fountain
where the birds no longer come to drink, .....nice bit of observation
a whisper-fingered hustler
palms another six of hearts.
I catch the look they give each other
—sly, almost reluctant
to acknowledge what they've witnessed here
behind their mother's backs, then off
they run, leaving a trail of laughter
thick enough to eat. A breadcrumb for the moon, two dollars shaking in the wind. I know a good magician
never tells, so I don't even bother troubling the man to ask how anyone pulls it off:
standing there exposed, lying to their faces openly
and making people want it, making being fooled the point.
I think 'thick enough to eat' is where the poem should end. It's a beautiful metaphor, and anything afterwards is a let down.
Thanks Busker, I appreciate it. That's a provocative suggestion, I kind of like it.
Walking through the park tonight, I feel like rotten milk
watching a pretty couple watch the stars
dance to their own music.
It's winter cold
early this year; he leans into his lover's coat
like some Buddhist tree falling
>This is my favourite bit of the poem. I wonder why Buddhist, is it because he serves her or is trying to attain enlightenment?
, slow
and mindless, irreversible.
>I don't think you need these, the tree falling says it and lets the reader think for themself
A quick kiss
on the lips.
They look like they've been doing this
for weeks.
>Kissing for weeks?
Tucked behind the fountain
where the birds no longer come to drink,
>I like this too
a whisper-fingered hustler
palms another six of hearts.
I catch the look they give each other
—sly, almost reluctant
to acknowledge what they've witnessed here
>I feel this is a bit telly instead of showing
behind their mother's backs, then off
they run, leaving a trail of laughter
thick enough to eat. A breadcrumb
for the moon, two dollars
shaking in the wind. I know a good magician
never tells, so I don't even bother
troubling the man to ask
how anyone pulls it off:
standing there exposed,
lying to their faces
openly
and making people want it,
making being fooled the point.
>I don't understand many poems lol unless they are v simple and I struglled with this one.
