Sunday, March 23, 2014

Andrea DeAngelis- Three Poems


 Magnetic

a chained-up moment
caged in a delirious choleric storm
moan about lazy Suzy tornadoes
and 26 hour diner woes
filled to the brim with delirium
coffee spilling philosophy
and no eternity

she is always here
in the diner
stuffed in the corner
where you won’t see her
unless you want to

her elaborate mass eatings
consuming fleshy nippled visions
allow her to ask these boys
sweet stares as if crushing
tickles wandering minds
unwrap you naked

she is here
sucking attention
her skirt hiked up
to unflattering contours
rigid varicose valleys
of lost men and expectations

sit back and enjoy
the witching hour ride
while the room spins round
to your clucking demise.



seven minutes

Everyone acted normal in the abnormal light
everyone acted as if this was a common occurrence
as if the sky had just been swallowed
just for them
just for seven minutes
and their minimal generation.



Flattened

Do you remember that eclipse?
How everything was flattened within?

Shadows were fattened up
and everyone’s souls were stretched out
too thin before them.

I was not a part of it
because you were with her
and I was with no one.

In those seven minutes
loneliness had a heaviness
it dragged me to the ground
and drowned.

All my senses
grew sickened and senseless
like death never coming
like continuing to exist
after she kissed you.



A short bio
Andrea DeAngelis is at times a poet, writer, shutterbug and musician living in New York City. Andrea sings and plays guitar in the indie rock band MAKAR (www.makarmusic.com). Her writing has recently appeared in Tin House, Salome Magazine and Camel Saloon.

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