Sunday

the poem I wanted to write failed, so I simply looked out of the window

the distanced grunting

of schedular lovers

the smell of toast at doors

an early child

screams at the rain

church bells demand

that crows attend the boxing

while streets are as empty

as a doll`s eye

a week later

Reviews

[Ruth]

And life, the "nows" fade into the cycles of what will be, and on and on...infinitely, wonderful writing, as always...

[jacob erin-cilberto]

If we really love, the sum of that love will come when it may...the streets may be empty as a doll's eye, but those who really love....are removing the distance...and the child cries to be held.
Whoa, this is such a good write...
minimalist---and powerful.
j.