transom

 

 

 

I fret over telling you that your hair

on the back of your head is turning gray.

 

But gray as the realistic sharif  of art.

Gray like a gray consonantal script

 

that when you read the inscription

makes you sleep everlasting

 

like the strawflowers brightly colored,

papery bracts between old age and time travel.

 

Holding your hand suggest indulgent comtempt.I,

for the first time, felt wrikles tremulous as one

 

marked for eternal crescents,

but now, I doubt it's true

 

this triangle of the after life where on one side

theres getting old and on the other sides

 

were the tribes of the two rulers.

The leaflets dropped as divinity

and the paper planes of toy powers/

Reviews

[caesarkreshen]

This is broken differently and different altogether. Than the other stuff. I read it yesterday and came back to read it again.

I'm not sure if I like it more or less only that it's different. It definitely has a subject I can relate to being as I AM SO ELDERLY now.

Last two lines, "indulgent contempt", and STRAWFLOWERS are moments I enjoyed.

Edit: I guess I did enjoy it because I didn't notice any of those typos. That usually means I am barely looking at the words and just thinking. Which is a good thing. FIX YER TYPOES.

[Emily B]

you write of age, it is near, worrying the hairs on your head, but you are not old, i won't believe it, you are as young as me, younger maybe, your eyes see adventures i never thought of

[sienikeha]

ahh, lovely. old age -- and all that comes with it--- is a glorious, glorious thing.

fdbk: fret
comtemp.. contempt? contemporary?
wri(n)kles