SCRITTURA WEDNESDAY POETRY PROMPT
Geysers and Compost
Sources of poetry
“I remember my art as geysers bursting forth from my insides, gushing in torrents…couldn’t help it anymore than breathing; it was liquid breath after all, underground under high pressure for eons. When boiling, steaming, it rushed out as screams, screams, screams, stinking of sulfur. Somehow this was followed by weeping and songs, songs, songs, reaching for beauty seen but not truly experienced for years. A purging of pain before genesis of incomparable joy. This still happens sometimes, but
the words I write now
reside in a folder called
‘compost’ wherein my
mind helps them moulder.”
(Excerpt from Compost by Wry.)
“Did you know crows can dive like kingfishers
striking fish beneath surface of water?
Well they do…
instead of water they penetrate
the third eye in the middle
of my forehead.
Sometimes sporadically, sometimes
rapid as machinegun fire, they
explode into my brain, become
liquid steaming inspiration streaming
down a special obsidian conduit,
splashing into a cauldron of poesy
inside my…
