"The shop's red tea takes my tongue..." Lovely in the mouth and in the ear throughout. Limitations and boundaries make for the best inspiration. Fine fine work.

FirstAwake: Are you going to do the exercise? And, thank you. Right now I feel like I'm the last awake, with insomnia derived from the strong tea that I love.

Ahh, insomnia. I fought it last night and won, but not without help. Just finished tinkering with a new piece and posted it; definitely going to give this exercise a whirl tonight after I finish cutting my own hair, the results of which will definitely shape the mood of the finished product. Thanks again for the inspiring work and the exercise that began it.

Dammit. Got started on the poem and didn't cut my hair. All finished. Check it out at my blog. Thanks again for the exercise. Damn. Now I gotta cut my hair while trying not to edit my work in my head. Joy and pain in equal measure. The writer's life.

OK, its not too long to fit here. I was just doing it wrong. Here you are:

MATCH GIRL
This time of night, who’s buying matches? No one
Who has the cash to burn—they’re all at home
With fires new-lit in glowing iron stoves
Fat bellies apple-red and satisfied
The cold of morning still nine hours away
When they give birth to ashes, sleep and dream.

I pass a clutch of men, their tin can stove
Of pigeon stew, too meager for them all
(Just six of them but might as well be forty)
That bubbles with the promise of a brawl
And makes my stomach sing in tomcat lust.
There are no cats here since the winter came.

This story ends in ways you’ve always known:
How each flare of a matchstick’s sulphur breath
Brings with it dreams of plenty, cruel visions
Of family, of the life that’s yet to come
And leaves behind dark heads on bright white wood--
The length that’s left to burn, that always was.

Alternate last line:
"The length that's left to burn, that never will." Undecided. And that's OK.

I love this..very good, concise images...but it is too late for me to be coherent.

FirstAwake: I like the ending you already have, but that's me. And wow, it reads very mythic. I love it, and am going over to your page to comment more fully on it. Thanks for posting it here too! Lucky me!

DeliaBlack: Fridays are when I post my writing exercise, for better or for worse. Join in when you're coherent! And thanks, some poems just sing as they form. I wish my muse was always in tune.

I LOVE this. Incredible details - matchstick sulphur, tinted teeth... I think you should post five words everyday so we get to see your lush work on a more regular basis.

cd see the words come alive...

I'm thinking about you On the edge of the moon.
Believe me, it's true and I really miss you !!
I don't know how long I haven't slept.
I don't know how long I haven't lived.
Only the moon knows all about us.
Only the moon, because always watches us.
Every night... I hope you can see
how much you mean to me!
Kisses.

so when would you post again? I have enough of your old posts to read though. who is a dervish-punk?

yours are like a quarter of an hour of soothing summer shower ... it is burning where I am