deepundergroundpoetry.com

Here

Here,
incarnate in this lonely body now,
circumscribed, outlined in dust,
the whole of me,
confined inside a slope of flesh,
how shall I find release?
Give me
here,
along my weighted limbs,
the molding pressure of your hands;
here,
upon my eyes,
the soft releasings of your mouth;
here, below,
the shaping upwards of your touch.
Make me forget today
that I am clay, and dull,
and only of the earth.
Written by Baldwin
Published
Author's Note
Please note that one-liners like "I like this" or "This is stupid", let alone "I don't have a car" etc. are NOT what I'm asking for when I say I want "honest CRITICISM" If you can't post an articulate response that centers in whether or not this piece is artful, and how and why it does or does not show the art that is characteristic of good poetry, then please do not comment upon it.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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