Friday, May 4, 2012
damask
I want to eat through this lace like a moth,
Such a beautiful damask, my friend, but,
this awkward stuffiness is binding, and
there is an eye-hole for each pinch,
flutter, and nibble.
You ask me a question with each swig of memory
my head raised you joggle my eyes, I reorient myself,
still dizzied. you don't remember anything-
even though you were there.
Let us read the words of the already deceased,
That is to say, there would be nothing more forthcoming,
from you, from them, you would be-
soundless as a headstone.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
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...
-
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...
-
July 12th My love's hands and eyes so full of surprise! he sees nothing wrong with giving me a synthetic strawberry.
-
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... -
lean in a little. say it like it's a secret. make your breath sound like italics. click your tongue against the roof your mouth then you...
-
The Anchor for Joel When love embarks, with its generating propellers slicing through the interminable oceans of imperfection that are, for ...
-
I thought it would be fitting to do an original of mine, but one of it's earlier drafts. I have recently reworked this poem so it includ...
-
July 9th i feel like running again. it's either that or swimming in a valley of tears. July 10th you couldn't tell by looking at us,...
-
The Opera The eyes of the firing-squad are aimed with lashed cross-hairs for now we, the chorus, all look like oiled up black ducks in a ro...
-
Reminder "You do not seem to understand," they'd say "That rivers are wide, and are not so easily crossed, we fear, they ...
Poets United Contributor
No comments:
Post a Comment