Sunday, December 13, 2015

Vin Whitman Reveals the Centiperson, Screaming Birds, Leviathans, Orgasmic Blindspots, and the Asterisk as Crucifix


 This was where we
 Spun our cocoons
 This was where we set the
 Seeds free
 Unaware of our
 Eight-armed enemy
 Invisible filaments drawn
 Asterisk or crucifix?

 Bumbling bee
 Desperate to worship
 W/ drunken lane changes
 Crashes the silken barricade
 And sobers into a hostage

 Butterfly army
 Sleeps through the storm
 As a leviathan would underwater

 Birds scream bloody terror at the
 Oncoming waterfall's windshield
 A weather phenomenon
 That spells hospital
 Or cemetery
 In violet text

 Doesn't even set
 The web askew


 Do you roam yourself like a giant planet
 Discovering secret burial grounds,
 Orgasmic blindspots

 I do

 You could roam into the space
 Just above your skull and pull
 It down through the floor
 To excavate a comfort zone that's
 Become a claustrophobic


 Sheep and kangaroos
 Are people too
 I'm a scavenger of depth, not width
 Roaming a grave and salty


 Can stay on the surface
 Of their sunny dispositions
 Extreme evolution and
 Stunning photographs


 I could take no pictures of
 My journey
 I had to draw them slowly
 From memory

 Why only roam to your
 Outskirts of skin?
 Lose count of dimensions
 In your centipede of nerves


 The jaws of rejection
 In a classroom
 Full of meat

 Left out
 To thaw, or worse,
 Thrown to the ground
 Losing teeth

 Post traumatic
 Dents in their faces
 Their slivered cat-eyes

 The bias-cut of a few
 Prime numbers

 Taste of a loaded,
 Bulging society
 Passed down in generational sausage

 A condition that will worsen
 To our hands
 Still shaking
 Giving off heat

Vin Whitman writes in fearful imagery that can make him paranoid, but he's learned to thrive on it. He is working on the social skills needed to do social work. He reads with The Tea House poets in Florida.