Thursday, December 08, 2011

I should probably read poetry first

He comes to her bed
entangling their limbs
arms and hips

Presently present closed
electric light

long suffering

Put to death
complicated coverlets

I must be going through a break up

Oh we passivists

the world comes
and we're rocked by her waves

make slaves of her shelter
and are thereby enslaved

find us
our oyster
and sleep

absent transgression
our endorsement
we keep

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

A poem

Autumn's leaves
blush red
at the indifference
of their departing lord

But the cold
of his prolonged absence
turns them brittle, brown
and wilted

Until breaking
under burdens
of love's seeming abandonment
they fall
borne lightly to the ground
as living tears
on death's feeble breeze

Wrapped up tight against the cold
my breath but
an Autumn fog
I walk
their path of broken hearts.