cerenkovsky
Whisper
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and the fire and the rose are one
with rust-stained hands / and our knees dusted with soot and red carolina clay / we stood among the metal skeletons,
30
Nov 21, 2011
post-nuclear proserpine
the sky is on fire; / the rest is a series of grays. / wrought iron, rot of ages.
44
Nov 21, 2011
the stillness
winter is thorns to scratch the skin / reopening old wounds / and bringing night early.
22
Nov 21, 2011
transitory
oh, i am an insidious thing; i pretend not to know the implications. / my dreams are troubled again. / grant me fixity;
18
Nov 21, 2011
wasted days
in the afternoon of my waking dream / slots of sunlight from in between the blinds wrap around you / and shimmer-shake warm and white to drive away the last vestiges of winter.
45
Nov 21, 2011
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