the form will shape me
the sadness creeps as it would-
and the child dies young.
guitar on her hip
she sleeps so very soundly
so the very sound-
the sound will sorround
in her black and red cliche
checkerboard jumping.
they say that no life
is better than one life is-
better than nothing.
disloyal and sad-
there are people in this world-
hopping, leaping mad,
heartaches and toothaches and with
hanging twisted rope
they actually do it.
a reflex kicking
you are only fingers and-
yet you do not grasp-
complete, this is it.
a snowshoe crunches forward.
gone, I am so gone.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
-
Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
-
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...
-
driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
-
Under a blanket it was at high altitudes in love or nauseous? I once held his hand his touch was so soothing-but with a lion's face. and...
-
as I left the waterfront and I climbed up the sandy stair as always his brothers were first; to greet me. I've had past dealings with th...
-
Reminder "You do not seem to understand," they'd say "That rivers are wide, and are not so easily crossed, we fear, they ...
-
Private Edgar Perry for Edgar Allen Poe I reported for duty, a Bostonian, surly, moody, unsteady. Twenty and two, not eighteen, Yes, twenty ...
-
in August for John Keats I didn't die unrequited. I took a wife in August. My wife was wearing silky white shoulders holding out her bon...
-
The Anchor for Joel When love embarks, with its generating propellers slicing through the interminable oceans of imperfection that are, for ...
These are fun/interesting to read aloud. Very nice!
ReplyDelete