Lay Myself Bare

I can see you as a skeleton...but that is because I was in bio sciences and love science.....
They now can reconstruct faces from bone structure....good poem....

Thanks for that, Kitty.

The last verse isn't needed. It has no imagery, and feels like a wrapping or summing up of what's come before, when a poem like this should end more vaguely. "There, are my bare bones" would be a perfect last line, IMHO.
The poem as a whole requires close attention, which I liked. Verses 1 to 3 are magnificent. Subtle, dark, not menacing or even upsetting so much as just quietly unsettling. This is a strange, almost surreal poem. When I read the first line, I must admit, I thought that this might be a "cutter" poem, but it's so much more. It has the challenging, enveloping bleakness of one of John Berryman's Dream Songs. Thank you for the read.

Thanks very much, Jack, for the in-depth look at this. I appreciate it, as always.

I'm loving this new stuff :) it's just... wow. I'm too speechless to write anything remotely constructive here. Just thought I'd share that.

Peace, Indie

Hey, thanks, Indie. It looks like the muse is shifting in a new direction, glad you like it.

YES, this is as bare as bare can get, love how you have pushed the words forward gently and then cross the edges, great write, Ataki!, one to re read, and re read....

That's right Mourganna, bare as...

Thank you for reading.

Skin deep.

Thank you for the list add, Carpe.

:)

That is truly laid bare. How telling the bones can be.

Great write Atakti. :)

Magdalena, I'm sure I've seen you write a thing or two about telling bones...

Thank you, hun.

you are definitely experimenting ataki...this poem has an eerie effect.

strider

I'll take eerie, and raise you surreal... Thanks, Strider

well aren't you something.
the last time i read something so 'different' i stopped writing for a week... lol
you're dishing out gems you jeweler :)

Aww, Dennis, thanks. I hope you keep writing, though, that's just crazy.

:)

I tidy undertaking and an interesting skeleton to rattle. A question often pondered in abattoirs and mortuaries... which brings me to something else to ponder. One should read your poetry after a few hours sleep more often... truly surreal.

Great write Atakti. I thoroughly enjoyed it, like a dog gnawing on every joint, crunching through the bone and sucking out the marrow... WOOF!

*wincing* dog with bone? Ouch...

Thank you, Case, I'm pleased you liked it. This is surreal even after proper sleep, so I don't know how you read that, must have been out there...

Thank you for your comments, Gabriel

:)

God you're so good my friend, so damned good!
Excellent write :)

You're very kind, thank you, poetikmind.