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The holes of a man are holes of the world,
which widened in an evening flourish -
a hot spray of southern death,
in proximity of the sun, but no thought of it.
There was no thought of clamor, or
of blood on blasphemous balconeys.
Warm, southern air was split and divided.
A nation's multi-faceted eyes
will be determined by the flesh that's spewed.
There are sudden motions and followers.
It is all ejecta, as black marching man:
civility fell like a decade: duotone of darkness.
Lamont Palmer
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Click here to write your comments about this poem (A Motel In Memphis by Lamont Palmer)
Daniel Tyler (6/17/2008 5:32:00 PM)
What a piece, Lamont! I would say it is the best I have read of yours. Its precision should be a lesson to any budding writer. Meanwhile, 'civility fell like a decade' would make Auden's creased face fold into a smile of appreciation. |
Tsira Gogeshvili (6/14/2008 5:04:00 AM)
Civility fell like a decade: duotone of darkness.
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Fine poems, you write excellently, Lamont...
Best wishes,
Tsira |
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