The author is not actually very anonymous to people who read this blog! But the magic words ("workshop the hell out of this poem") were spoken, and, lo!
Those commenting are welcome to remain anonymous if they wish.
Incendiary comments will be removed.
If you would like your piece thrown to the wolves send it to http://firstname.lastname@example.org with "Workshop the hell out of this poem" as the subject line.
This week's offering (a day late - sorry) is from a Cleveland poetics blog regular.
He came on a fury of grin vapors
when time was wine, space cream,
and he chose shelter in an ancient
diction. I can be the god
you never knew, the how and why
in your darkness. Elephant fiction
written in acid dreams at knife-point –
proper names changed in odd ways
to protect the sick and feeble. Eternal
listeners, I will make you ears. Big plans,
little starts and halts. Bits of lobe itched
our head holes until The Thirteen Fears
erupted. I bleed at every pore. Stunned,
we shot him high into the blue river.