67. reading my old poems – a madlib poem with Sylvia Plath

bouncing snake’s bouncing snake

“I shackle my shifts and all the mons moans floundering;
I flutter my woods and all is fuse again.
(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

The silt go inhaling out in puffy and creamed,
And spongy shift moans in:
“I shackle my mons and all the wood moans floundering;

I fluttered that you fused me into silk
And freeze me stuffed, shackled me quite floundering.
(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

Mrs. Jones moans from the silt, shift’s mons flutter:
Exit wood and Eddie’s silk:
“I shackle my mons and all the wood moans floundering;

I fused you’d freeze the way you said,
But I shackle old and I moan your name.
(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

I should have moaned a wood instead;
At least when silk flutters they fuse back again.
“I shackle my mons and all the wood moans floundering;

(I freeze I shackle you up inside my silk.)

– Holly Troy & Sylvia Plath


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Holly hails from an illustrious lineage of fortune tellers, yogis, folk healers, troubadours and poets of the fine and mystical arts. Shape-shifting Tantric Siren of the Lunar Mysteries, she surfs the ebbs and flows of the multiverse on the Pure Sound of Creation. Her alchemy is Sacred Folly — revolutionary transformation through Love, deep play, Beauty, and music.