It takes at least four verses
To transform thought into sense
Not this two and a half stanza dribble
That ricochettes into stray eyes
But runs out of breath before it's done
These half-strangled meanderings
Unfit for the rudest beggar
Litter pavements and alleyways
Like mumbled promises.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Fatherhood
I am carrying the torch you Handed me Not handed. Placed Carefully This is sacred space. Was the carrying so heavy for you as well? Were yo...
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It must have been love That sort of thing Can't be mistaken For a lesser set of feelings It has a special hat And makes you welcome at p...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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I’m tired I’m tired of my heart giving out Whenever it gives in That things being the same Never makes a difference Of looking forwards to s...
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