the nervous quiver crescents
her infinity pointing finger,
frames a slivered grin that rounds
a silver bend of no remand
to question the crook that beckons.
a paucity of proud ferns
governed by a cyclic transit
waltzes a bearable sadness
into the ephemeral forever,
neither controlled nor understood
in the stiletto culture of cut stones.
the swift paving does not matter,
points of elegance are discarded
into the dusty bins of then.
bad trump and leaky skins
thinly flashing, flashing, flashing:
a fanfare of loneliness
wetly queued by damp embouchure.
a misty sadness only bearable
exquisitely barks from piers of gray.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
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I learn something new everytime I read you. Not just a new word, but how you weave words to capture a moment/a feeling.Because of such the reader (this reader) is able to actually feel within the words.
ReplyDeleteI am liking this, you; muchly!