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tommy-carrollPoems
I watch and  stand and let a passing cloud hit by moonlight make a rimmed spectacle of a distant want. I shift my weight and blink; recalling wordless feelings before I put into words those useless aphorisms. It's the words, with their wanton un-mouthed ache, that bleat silently against the ear, tangling those as yet un-marked and un-surveyed desires, whose syntax' obliterating duster transforms an ancient passion into a grammatical smudge. I blink again and return to my frosted gate. Pausing, I catch a reflection of the nearly moon breaking free from the hiding clouds- and for an instant my feelings, unwritten, unspoken, return.
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
Nearly moon
I watch and  stand and let a passing cloud hit by moonlight make a rimmed spectacle of a distant want. I shift my weight and blink; recalling wordless feelings before I put into words those useless aphorisms. It's the words, with their wanton un-mouthed ache, that bleat silently against the ear, tangling those as yet un-marked and un-surveyed desires, whose syntax' obliterating duster transforms an ancient passion into a grammatical smudge. I blink again and return to my frosted gate. Pausing, I catch a reflection of the nearly moon breaking free from the hiding clouds- and for an instant my feelings, unwritten, unspoken, return.
tommy-carroll
Written by
tommy-carroll
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
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