Sunday 1/24/2016 12:06:00 AM

it burns. quietly. the structure of distance. all bent needles and broken threads. the parity of circumstance. louder still the farther we get.

she wore the cold. in fits of defiance. a terminal exception. to all the raw chaos of surrender.

she found the lost. a paradox of mdoest proportions.

they spent the weather. in blizzards and floods. betting on hysterics.

it went. as it always does. the icy poetry of nature effortlessly humbling all their rhetoric.

she spun. in the vertigo of certainty.

the road trembled in the wind. the distance hummed.

she continued to chase the storm even as she was chased by it.

0 comments:


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.