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
and let your breath be moist against me
telephone the power-house
(her words play softly up and down
then with your tongue remove the tape
- Jean Toomer (this is quite possibly the best poem I have ever read not by Apollinaire)