tim-kearns - Hello Poetry

outside the bedroom window speckles of white clouds upon the ending sky the vanity of my blue eyes along her dark naked flesh the sounds of late summer echoing through our candled rooms the curtains parted the air heavy with moisture our clothes strewn about the hardwood floor again a sheen of sweat traced upon our entwined bodies our souls abraded with the delirium of love

0

Aug 15, 2019

Aug 15, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC

the bedroom window

outside the bedroom window speckles of white clouds upon the ending sky the vanity of my blue eyes along her dark naked flesh the sounds of late summer echoing through our candled rooms the curtains parted the air heavy with moisture our clothes strewn about the hardwood floor again a sheen of sweat traced upon our entwined bodies our souls abraded with the delirium of love

15

It was only after Father left us that we understood what he had never told us.

0

Jul 28, 2019

Jul 28, 2019 at 1:57 PM UTC

Wisdom

It was only after Father left us that we understood what he had never told us.

2

i hear nothing over the roar of intense silence

0

Jul 22, 2019

Jul 22, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC

i hear nothing

i hear nothing over the roar of intense silence

3

the solitude of the nothingness on the polished metallic bench and the sobering thought no sounds to waste

0

Jul 22, 2019

Jul 22, 2019 at 2:26 PM UTC

point park, 6 a.m.

the solitude of the nothingness on the polished metallic bench and the sobering thought no sounds to waste

6

it was the wrong rain, the wrong kind of rain, I was hoping for a deluge, a cacophonous, overwhelming rain, something to recall later, "remember when he died?" "oh man, the rain that day."

0

Jul 22, 2019

Jul 22, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC

rains

it was the wrong rain, the wrong kind of rain, I was hoping for a deluge, a cacophonous, overwhelming rain, something to recall later, "remember when he died?" "oh man, the rain that day."

7

sleep abstract enticement at mid-day the crutch holding up dreams the sweet foment of time a quarter moon distant and silent ingesting twilight

0

Jul 22, 2019

Jul 22, 2019 at 1:05 PM UTC

sleep

sleep abstract enticement at mid-day the crutch holding up dreams the sweet foment of time a quarter moon distant and silent ingesting twilight

10

I asked my younger self, "Where am I?" He shook his head, sighed deep and loud, then walked away.

0

Jul 22, 2019

Jul 22, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC

Myself

I asked my younger self, "Where am I?" He shook his head, sighed deep and loud, then walked away.

5

the bus bears us away with a chalky cough and a quick stutter the criss-crossed lines we carelessly roll over looped in the rearview mirror like an endless movie matinee

0

Jul 11, 2019

Jul 11, 2019 at 5:09 PM UTC

soundtrack

the bus bears us away with a chalky cough and a quick stutter the criss-crossed lines we carelessly roll over looped in the rearview mirror like an endless movie matinee

7

a mute wednesday reading Peter Orner in the warm bed curtains pulled open everything out the window morning already passed

0

Jul 11, 2019

Jul 11, 2019 at 5:06 PM UTC

a mute wednesday

a mute wednesday reading Peter Orner in the warm bed curtains pulled open everything out the window morning already passed

6

it is not the stars but the spaces between the stars that matters, the unaltered blackness that draws in breath on a frozen winter night the accepting anxiety of what remains unseen between the orbs of failing or dead light their extinguished gases someday arranging the night into another vista of unknowable darkness.

0

Jul 11, 2019

Jul 11, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC

distance

it is not the stars but the spaces between the stars that matters, the unaltered blackness that draws in breath on a frozen winter night the accepting anxiety of what remains unseen between the orbs of failing or dead light their extinguished gases someday arranging the night into another vista of unknowable darkness.

15