 |
ImmigrantI’m an immigrantto Earth.I’m not sure where I come from But I’m sure I’m not from here.Somewhere,somehow,some time be..
|
 |
A Murder of CrowsMy breath does the dance of death on frosty air,cools like the corpse of Summer thereand drifts, melancholy,to nothing.A murder of cr..
|
 |
EveIt’s strange when the
days are devoured by the dark so soon after the golden glory of summer. The
long, shadow-striped evenin..
|
 |
The ChapelThere’s a chapel across the meadow - in a copse on the edge of the woods -where the hymns are sung by blackbirdsand the pews are falle..
|
 |
The WondererThis is the Wonderer’s way,the Wanderer’s way,the journey of a thousand questions,each with a thousand more.This is the Socrat..
|
 |
The DanceWe dance with Death.Every dayfrom conceptionto cremation -or whatever other path to bodily annihilation -we dance with Death.She whirls us,ga..
|
 |
PsychiatristYou pick at my brainlike tapas...Like tapestry,embroidery,un-picking me,You revelin my unravellingand reveal glitchesin my stitches.You Fr..
|
|
|
Profile
Writing
Friends
Share This