Monday, February 13, 2017

Kerri Shying R # 193 _ Towelling Hoods # 1

Towelling Hoods # 1

in the wet house  where all the dreams
came flying out   in the wet house

her other spaces fell about   in laughing at
the hope of ever   keeping sane   or getting

far away   in the wet house   drenched by sweat
of horror   drips that fall in pins of accuracy wished up

by a bombmaker    she rides on nightmares   just to make
the coffee  in the wet house   all the walls are white

in the wet house  only she can see  where fingers touched
the walls the floors the small folds of the human brain

meninges   metatarsals singing out    the shrill whistle of the
boiling kettle   tells her    his tea is ready

in the wet house


  1. wow! quite an experience here! very powerful! Maybe i wanted the poem to end with "his tea is ready" which opens a lot of possibilities for our imagination to go on while repeating "in the wet house" is somehow a limitation .. .. but I'm fine with it too!

  2. Uber wow Kerri! Just loved the wet house - and the sense of the dangerous and ominous intertwined with the domestic. Love it!


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