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Tuna On The Cob

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Below is the poem entitled Tuna On The Cob which was written by poet Rob Browne. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Tuna On The Cob

Scented ember a moulted smoulder
Skied as crackling softness 
Spied and felt thru a film of dexterity
Uncalibrated, solvent, translucid
Trance and dance

Street fleet, guttering inhabited by creased indoctrination
Yet to be ironed
Yet to be pressed and left on the stoop
Cornered like bluefin, fed, foddered and canned
'Til the ink runs dry

Dust, seen but not sawn
Settles on my pine needles
Green hue askew now turns to blue
Appointed to the disjointed and as hard edges glint
Drones trudge thru sludge to fund the mints

(I know these words are bare, and that this poetry is bleak but it's channelled from a source which I seek. 
A clear blue nectarous swivelling blissmist.)

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