Ezra Pounds Me

It can be difficult to just rest on the hard work of producing high quality content and sending it into the void (public).

I want to revive the Imagists; but embrace the richness of language and meter from the Romantics. Poetry sings to my quivering soul; it is the vibrator inside me that tickles my clitoris while shoving a delicate finger up my ass.

The Imagists had three main rules from Ezra Pound (the leader of the group and quiet mad).

Direct treatment of the "thing", whether subjective or objective.

To use absolutely no word that does not contribute to the presentation.

As regarding rhythm: to compose in sequence of the musical phrase, not in sequence of the metronome.

Pound's note opened with a definition of an image as "that which presents an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of time"

You can find Pound's full text here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/articles/58900/a-few-donts-by-an-imagiste

I feel like a fraud and an imposter with my own humble poems. Even worse that my smut isn't great.

Erotic Poem of the Day:

Imagiste style

Sprung nipple so taut pain travels goosebumps
flooding chest and neck: your hand expelling space between palm and my butt.
Your face covered by the vapor stink between my legs.