I

I am quixotic
I is the word which means
I can never be in you
who I forget as soon as I know
and who is made,
of foreign parts

 

from consumer Islands
and unconsummated
fever dreams

 

When angels lie in sand
basking like rocks
in the midst of pure death
and curtained by light
I am near

 

A forest of suns wink
and I forget to understand
Innuendo, escapes.
and I hold the chains of my dithering
self-worth

 

Gold. flecks on painted rocks
is the price
and the art, of my measurement
as I sun in the moon
thinking of my
paleness
and the ire
I evoke, by leave,
of your tears
streaming down your cheek

 

But which I forget
as soon as I see.

Reviews

[Con O'Clast]

Wow, spectacular piece. Beautiful imagery, great form. The first three lines are captivating and the end is bitter sweet. Well done.