a cold end. a yellow defeat. soft stones strike the glass, but rarely break it. the long math of faces betray the simplicity of skin. tease the frigid. in quiet chokes of wind. and the loud epiphanies proximity tends to overlook.
stones crumble. the dust confesses. the jaws of the moment bite down. chew. and we are consumed. quietly digested. like everything else that is dead.
the pace is irrelevant. no destination. just going. always searching. for corners that tend to meet. the curious angles that lead us to connections. fluctuating degrees. and tardy rabbits. overwhelmed by Alice's copious dream.
Small. large. then back again. the winter is stubborn. the scale is passive. we measure by other means.
the shadow across her thoughts. the hesitation in her pills. the humor in her grief.
chaos pretending progress. life like shoelaces coming undone.
Thursday
4/17/2014 12:10:00 AM
| Life Poems |