Another Dream, Another Day Of Avarice, Too Due...?

david-hilburn Poems

The sweetness of dismal forth? Space and a tapping heavy will of the wish Greeting the dread, a host of silence, music for worth... Naked real enough, naked felt to mention Raises an eyebrow, raises a hunger To the table of vestige, the tone of mystique For a doting hope, dancing in the arms of thunder Reach and purpose, in the shielded eyes of a lead... Curious rhymes and times with a patronage's bag Hurt feelings for a lore, in the needs of more Had like a thought, in toil we save the cursory to add... A callous few, the society of timid eyes, knows you somehow stranger Lights that remind, you... Three pigs and a wolf to tell the time Have a mirror in mind, one for alienation Two for a side of salt, and three wishes that should, a crying... And a wolf in the first place... Space for happening homes, the tale of synergy in grasp That has the continue if not the view, of when a soon is sate Is a requite of voice and its taste in joy, a new past to ask? Exorcism of a priest, and a tale of youths? Without the kindness of privilege, or the epistolary of count The wailing and the stolen tryst, of powers that be our couth's? In the dim and violent, misery we will note, is but a secret's pout Passionate days, with a reason to be here Aching eyes on the verge of unity, if not use for a cross That has said, in a treatise of vice and quiet offering, of fear... The none, the fulfilled song, and ourselves in an eye to toss...