Keep your damn filthy bones outta my mouth

I’ll be the first to admit, I think of a lot stupid shit; stuff one should really never wonder about in the first place. Who doesn’t, right? But the beauty of this is sometimes it’s these very thoughts that get the creative process going.

Years ago when I was in grad school and taking a poetry workshop taught by Kim Addonizio (very, very cool stuff by the way), the class was assigned to write about death, grief and the erotic. I chose to write about all three at once—a skeleton who wants to get laid.

Stupid shit, right?

I find the idea of animated skeletons funny (Army of Darkness) and sad and have gone through fits and starts about putting together a collection of skeleton poems, story(ies) and a screenplay. Since Halloween is almost upon us, here’s the very first skeleton poem. This was published in the Santa Clara Review back in ‘99. I may post more of the more polished pieces, we’ll see.

Cemetery Blues

Limbs rattling, and teeth clenched, a skeleton
wonders who he can lay down with. While
there is nothing to erect, consciousness
of sex and urges still remain in his
bones—extending through the points of his hips
and fingers. He knows he is attractive—
the curve of his ribs, the geometry of his
tibia, fibula and spine are proof of
this. But, more importantly, he wonders, if
a skeleton has intercourse, is he
transgressing and committing necrophilia?

~ by isolemnlysweariamuptonogood on October 29, 2007.