You’ll love it… It’s a way of life
Sucking the juice from our naughty language
The writer finds himself hollow and dry
Seeking an adjective existence,
he steps into spaces
hides his face around pregnant pauses
prefers ellipses…
…Sentences alive with space at the end
A definitive ambiguity.
Nature plays along
Death is nothing but an alternative ending
Sleeping
These nights I am so close to the stars
I can scrape them off with my hands
Their shimmering halo moving like cold breath in the air
Like dreams, they die in stages
Here, together, she shields me
paying for her compassion with hours softly spent
And yet, in the glimmer of candles, hers is the face that is alive
While I chase hot moons, she hibernates
And I howl and cry and play my drums and she moves not at all
She is what I strive to be and what I fear to find
Saving her blood for some future time
Is it you who is good from beginning to end?
Then you are not from here
and you do not belong here
Here, better angels find themselves far from home
From this place, no wasted soul is removed
Bones laid at every door
Every window has eyes
We are waylaid, drunk with talk
You are not welcome
until you show me your scars
***
I enjoyed reading this whole set of poems, and I especially love, “Sleeping!”
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