I would not want readers to base their readings on any autobiographical elements they may think they uncover in the poems, because there are none. As a surrealist of sorts, I'm looking for language to explode on the page, for ANY reader.
Beware bullet-proof limousines
that are searching for violets across
the snowy slopes of a good thing.
Beware the changing seas acting
rationally, the roller coasters
that are a little fancy, that shut down
whenever tourists need them most.
Beware the blue seed of inspiration.
It takes up the whole river!
Beware of fall producing a dirt
that’s creamy, that’s hard to stop.
Beware of leeches that fill the slime
often shrouded in secrecy down
one side of a South Carolina park.
All will be revealed if they ever
drain the pond of a few fish.
They’re still gobbling up the secrets
of the body as we speak.
Cliff's Book Recommendations
White by Charles Simic and The Morning Glory by Robert Bly
Cliff Saunders is the author of several poetry chapbooks, including Mapping the Asphalt Meadows (Slipstream Publications) and The Persistence of Desire (Kindred Spirit Press). His poems have appeared recently in I-70 Review, Orchards Poetry Journal, Press Pause, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, and The Heartland Review.