On the great flat sheet of the beach almost like a bed flat sheet in fact, the toes disport, comport themselves looking for all the world like waves of headstones in a perhaps military cemetery except with sunglasses, aviators probably, given the military issue. The male toes are cool in their aviators and bare-chested, sporting only swimming trunks. I was never a fan of aviators for the ladies but fetishes and inhibitions are sprouting like cauliflowers round me at this stage so don’t mind me. The tots are the best, I mean toes are small so toe tots just about disappear (through binoculars from the slopes of Pico which is our vantage point) were it not for the puffs of sand they squirt up as they race about and disappear into all over this surfside arena stretched and marked with broad striped beach towels the bright colors of which make the scene a festival. That and the Latin music. If you’ve never seen a big toe belly-dance you haven’t lived. Of course I mean chamarrita, larum-tum-tum, and pezinho. But the great thing about toes you know is how completely silent they are. You hear the music of course. Then the toes like giant erasers rubbing it out.
7 comments:
Some may say why focus on the diurnal and nocturnal behaviors of the monied toe, why not the humble native, naked in dusty sandal, or on brushy floor?
I think you've got the whole poem backwards somehow. It should be about Azores made of toes not toes disporting on a beach in the Azores. If you’re not able to do islands made of toes you could do buzzards made of toes, or goshawks, or even just raptors I think you have just taken the lazy way out here. I could write a better poem than that.
Yeah it would be cool to have raptors made of toes eating toes—raptors eating toes not toes eating toes though as the raptors are made of toes it is toes eating toes really—raptors made of toes eating themselves would be kind of existential. I think it’s important to present it as the macro-raptor (made of toes) eating the micro-toes (which comprise itself) though the idea of all the toes just munching on themselves in mayhem within the loose frame of raptor is also kind of cool.
Could be she's lost it. Or maybe she's found a new it. In any case, I am watching her toes...they aren't erasing anything and all this writing over is like 5th grade scratch outs in ink over ink. Funny that there are so many Mairead commentators on a Mairead blog.
Not Mairead
Triple totes tequila after-poem, tre coolio!!!!!!!!!!!
One must give thought to the development of this piece. Upon a beach with toes playfully enjoying the sand, each consistent with the other as if headstones in a cemetery, as seen through darken lens. Male, female, children, not everyone can create something so philosophical about toes! Outstanding…
A.J.Johnson
WritingandArt
i could hardly see the toes.
i was lost in the form of the sandy white sheets.
they just roll on and on through my mind.
perhaps the toes erased themselves and left me with white blank sheets.
i am thankful for the hills and valleys that remain .
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