finding the end. in scrapes of how. and delusions of if. the edge of the world crisp and determined. their belted parables. their knotted heavens. like so many grendaes already spent.
the vagaries of causality. choices like stale bread. and memory in its usual hysteria. angles. portions of when. leave us hungry.
the asthma of time chokes us. a pale irony in broken colors. the edge grows louder. the distance grows deaf.
small buckets and their many leaks. all the little lies that matter far too much.
Saturday
10/12/2013 12:49:00 AM
| Life Poems |