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tom-mcconePoems
at once, a fragment of time, feigning invisibility, or ignorance, or questioning: what was lost? surely i. the list repeats; three kilometers- a thousand or more repetitions, a mountain- just one, cold, partially fogbound. open covers, reveries composed of wolves' teeth. huh, some olympia this makes. i slept and your words were life. you smiled, silent, one-half of a crescent moon's portrait, the sky was soft, turning away you set light awash on the tracks of swells i cast a small boat across the depths- there are too many nothings, here. i'll drown, empty. lithe, you move a hair's width, you drop an anchor into the world. and i, warm, wonder, once more, how the seconds must trail shadows across your skin, in the rain.
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Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 5:52 AM UTC
false estate
at once, a fragment of time, feigning invisibility, or ignorance, or questioning: what was lost? surely i. the list repeats; three kilometers- a thousand or more repetitions, a mountain- just one, cold, partially fogbound. open covers, reveries composed of wolves' teeth. huh, some olympia this makes. i slept and your words were life. you smiled, silent, one-half of a crescent moon's portrait, the sky was soft, turning away you set light awash on the tracks of swells i cast a small boat across the depths- there are too many nothings, here. i'll drown, empty. lithe, you move a hair's width, you drop an anchor into the world. and i, warm, wonder, once more, how the seconds must trail shadows across your skin, in the rain.
tom-mccone
Written by
tom-mccone
New Zealander
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 5:52 AM UTC
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