Dripping, Dropping Slams of Under Sized BrandsA Poem by Chris G. VaillancourtDoor opens slowly. Dripping, dropping slams of under sized brands. Glitter like muscles moving in psychedelic windows. And they see you at that moment. Call you at that time. Define and refine you until your movements do not belong to you. Hating what is unique, they mould the mud that forms you. Reformation and reclamation. You are the image of the glass bowl they've ordered you to be. Slim tender fingers wrapped like scars around your sublime feet. I am a sheep. That is, I've forgotten the moment of my birth. And as the cars rumble by, endless cars of many descriptions, I'm a shadow unto myself. I'm a floating zero of contrasting complexity. Anchors of yowling animals flatten the figurative yelling of the first time I was conceived. Door opens slowly. Dripping, dropping slams of under sized brands. Be silent. © 2012 Chris G. VaillancourtReviews
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Added on May 7, 2012Last Updated on May 7, 2012 AuthorChris G. VaillancourtWindsor, Ontario, CanadaAboutOver 200 of my poems have appeared in more than one hundred journals in the U.S. and Canada, in Japan and Australia, and the U.K. I have had a series of chapbooks published in the 1980's by 4 Wi.. more..Writing
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