Thursday, July 1, 2010

Not Quite Sure

There is a hidden warmth in you
you do not show to others
and it pulls me under
like quick sand.

Or maybe it is the movement
of the sands that embalms
my body and carves out a
sinking place for it.


Or quite possibly the sands
are a prison holding my
body as it lays me down
waiting to drown as
the wicked seas overwhelm.

Or maybe I am at the helm,
I am sitting out far inside
the seas, I am waiting to
be brought ashore
I am waiting

Or I wait no more.
I am not quite sure.
Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Reach for the clouds. . .

Tickle your toes. . .

  • Memoir of a Memoir: Week 5
    Recently I have been really attempting to delve into what it means to be a poet. Jim Morrison once wanted to be a poet, and look where it go...
  • in tact
    sex object. not afraid of the words. I've used many objects for the sake of sex. in fact my body has been pretty disposable- I don't...
  • wink
    you don't care, even though you were there. and so like you the little exhausted children sleep through all of the noise, and florescent...
  • mittens
    where are my garden gloves to weed out your evils? where are my rubber gloves to scrub off your stupid? where are my surgical gloves to cut ...
  • Day 4
    Delayed Response You may write me a requiem. You may sing me a song. You may write me a poem. You may send my parents flowers. You may annou...
  • riches to rags
    i once wrote on the tops of trees, i shouldn't have, it was dangerous. swaying, swaying, swaying, dizzying. they say you should only wri...
  • boom
    did someone die, today? most likely. isn't that a difficult thing? was someone born, today? most likely. isn't that a difficult thin...
  • Oh, Jealousy
    You are not the first to ache and turn green, ill from the motion sicknesses and poisoned canteen-- As you hike up the hill of "What if...
  • I. Want. This. Place.
    I could live in small spaces if the wine was fruity and plentiful and I had a window facing west. All of the left over money would go to org...
  • A girl in a shabby green coat, on a railway-station platform
    motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...

Poets United Contributor