Well, I've done some revamping.

New username. Deleted all of the old poetry. I'd like to start fresh. At first it was angsty teen crap, then I moved into my "let's use as many adjectives as we can to distract from the lack of meaning in a poem" phase. The "adjective" poems, as I have so christened them, had a good run (I'm actually surprised by the number of reviewers who enjoyed them), but it's time to start writing for real. What's the next phase going to be? Well, we'll see.

"Her Lips Are Copper Wire"

whisper of yellow globes
gleaming on lamp-posts that sway
like bootleg licker drinkers in the fog

and let your breath be moist against me
like bright beads on yellow globes

telephone the power-house
that the main wires are insulate

(her words play softly up and down
dewy corridors of billboards)

then with your tongue remove the tape
and press your lips to mine
till they are incandescent

- Jean Toomer (this is quite possibly the best poem I have ever read not by Apollinaire)