I write moonlight when
there’s no moonlight in sight,
speak of the plodding stars
when all above is smoke.
Things aren’t looking too
good for me with the facts.
I claim truth when all I got
is useless, I claim form
when all I do is swing
the idiom. These symbols
before you the sound
your voice makes
in silence. This magic
sounding out the moment,
the meaning there
waiting to be tasted
the way lips imply a kiss,
the story the fire obliges.
Sunday, November 18, 2018
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
simmer
The hours drag and drawl, the vision blurs and fades. The world is more at once, this flight of wing and flower, this litany of sudden silk ...
-
The season settles again on the unseasonable, my bones ring with the resonant chill, something’s always missing after a death. The hard shif...
-
There’s not much to do once the sinking sets in, once you feel the collapse throughout the collateral, the drag of the earth’s core gripping...
-
The words circle, the words spin, the words become and begin. There’s really no excuse. Just padding out the package, just filling out the f...
No comments:
Post a Comment