the liarpoet.

November 7, 2011

constructs boxes from circles,
persuading an impression,
into a cubist painting,
coaxing corners and protractions,
from supple handfuls,
of flowing words and motions,
kinking them with half-truths,
sharpening with points,
until they snap and fold,
at 90 degree right angles, acutely.

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6 Responses to “the liarpoet.”

  1. S.W. May said

    I enjoy how your poem moves between soft sounding words and jagged language: boxes and circles, corners and supple, flowing and kinking. The sound of the “K” is everywhere, makes my mouth feel angry somehow. Enjoyed the ride.

    • Fountains said

      Thank you, S.W. May. I had originally used “bending” instead of “kinking” but chose the final word for the reasons that you mentioned. I appreciate you listening to intently. 🙂

      • S.W. May said

        Writing is the most obvious need to reach out of our bodies and desperately grab the temporal mind in another’s shell. It always deserves attention. Some just have hands that are nicer to hold onto as they reach out. You have a lot of writing here that’s easy to hold.

      • Fountains said

        I adore that it seems I’ve made hands that are easy to hold. You haven’t the slightest idea what this has meant to me. Also, I don’t think anyone has ever said it better than you have in your first two sentences… It feels silly to state that I hadn’t realized all these sentences were merely fingers reaching out.

  2. I like all the plays on words here, impression/cubist, angles/acutely… nicely done.

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