Whisper breezy promises across my neck
I'll fall down like a delapidated wreck
No time left ticking with my hands,
Where comes my weakness nothing stands,
No Life's now a juggle of nothing and time
It's a jungle of rhyme--
And I give in knowing not how to handle it.
Remind me how I used to just groove and sandle it.
I'll go where no one ever goes
I'll traipse through the weeds as they graze my toes
Know that everyone thinks, and thinks everyone knows.
But no longer caring I'll turn up my nose.
I'll give in to the spiritual throes,
I'll set aside the habitual woes,
I'll file jagged teeth and smoothly gum-
this leathery undertaking, so easy to some.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
-
Letter to Kate For William Blake My Catherine Sophia, as you would be known. You were just Kate. Child of Pity, full of mouth. Widened but i...
-
like a hand that holds an ankle, I felt powerful in your arms this dancing, this pointed push, this bygone cloud. with my face in your belly...
-
July 12th My love's hands and eyes so full of surprise! he sees nothing wrong with giving me a synthetic strawberry.
-
Dear, Run. Arrows in your belly and ribs and rear you were once wounded, dear. Limping, Heartsick, Struggling to catch up green from my succ...
-
At age 25 for Sir John Donne Down went San Felipe. Crimson and pale, rippling, clinging to it's mist. Oh, how that flagship hurled itsel...
-
confession is all: it is what my poetry is, and that is my life.
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
-
silver-tongued wings flapping bones split but connect to each other every few inches. arms opened create flight-lips purse full of gold word...

No comments:
Post a Comment