the girl hates bios, mirrors. loves the sky.



she is sans serif
10-point type,
often italicized
never bold.

she is onion paper
see-through skin.
easily erased, truth
untold.

she’s scribbled whim
and ellipsis salt,
ridiculous blessings,
cacophonous grace.

she’s words in margins,
indigo fire.
moon swallowed,
sunset known.

she’s rough
draft, work-in-progress,
pending approval
– especially her own.


Prompted by words count with mama zen over at Toads. Come play!
What’s your real bio?

 

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14 Responses to the girl hates bios, mirrors. loves the sky.

  1. Ahh! I love this!! Especially those last four lines.

  2. Shawna says:

    The girl hates bio-smearers. Very clever. Also, she is sans sheriff.

    The last three stanzas are fricking killer.

  3. ihatepoetry says:

    This is the perfect mix of poetry and prose. Loved this.

  4. This is incredible. I love it!

  5. Kerry O'Connor says:

    Those last two lines are especially telling. I love your creative approach to the bio.

  6. Candy says:

    you in an onion skin – I love it!

  7. Mama Zen says:

    This is so well done! Love this a lot.

  8. elleceef says:

    This is wonderful, love it,,,so much to see about this woman,,,

  9. I like how you stayed in the paper with the typecasts.. though I think she’s bold every now and then… the last few lands though says more than the rest.

  10. Love “moon swallowed” and am so familiar with your closing sentiment. What a cool approach to this challenge, de!! Awesome indigo fire in the margins!

  11. Rosemary Nissen-Wade says:

    Brilliant! Perfect! Adorable!

  12. ManicDdaily says:

    Agh, this issue of pending approval is such a universal one. You’ve drafted it so well. Thanks! K.

  13. hedgewitch says:

    A life italicized seems somehow so hard–I love all the little similes ‘whim and ellipsis salt,’ moon-swallowed,” scribbles in the margins that are always trying so hard to get somewhere better, somewhere perfect, somewhere perhaps even unattainable, but there’s no stopping till the pen runs out of ink. A very fine poem, DE.

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