Visual Poetry: The Queen
Posts
Concrete Poem
Spiraling The chickens hop in a line Circling around my frontal lobe The crowd parts into two One for each eye The chickens walk down the caruncle Like a staircase Their pointed feet poking at my eyelids The burrow into my eye Behind the skull Then lay their eggs in my brain They make a nest of the pink crevices They peck their beaks into the flesh Sending a signal down my spine It pinpricks my neck Awakens my gut The eggs hatch The cycle starts again
Found Poems
ultimate elitist? one progressive costume of man and machine outlined categories, examining continuum As it turns out, hopes will prove human in advancing the future overwhelming anxiety feeling pressure to play a role to friends distracting them foster their ideal version