"lacunas" poems
Crouching in the rotted dust,
Covers covet the light;
Dull, discoloured dust jackets
And wrinkled leather hides
Of the books that moulder and muse,
Ruminate and render themselves
To dust, as everything must,
Upon long-forgotten shelves.
Becomes the perfect breeding ground
For shadows, for sickness, for sin;
The ladies are seen to turn away
With tarnished faces and tattered gowns,
While the hero remains anonymous,
A nobody about the town.
A plot studded with lacunas
And paralysed on page one,
Words grown together in intimate embraces
Never to be undone.
Thin volumes of poetry
Shiver with the poison of years,
As passions freeze and snow falls in May –
The daffodils die a beautiful death,
The clouds are mottled and grey.
A teardrop hits the page.
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 2:00 PM UTC
I think we forgot
Or I think there was an occurrence
A time that the door swung open
Where it slipped, almost quietly out
Fell up into the night
For others, perhaps
Or for nothing
Or maybe
Between those days, streets, dinners
Those afternoons thieved behind closed curtains
Between the hands and the highs and the denials
In those lulls of mind, or lacunas of the trials
We forgot to look
Unrepentantly inattentive
And like a naughty child
Like yesterday's confetti to a storm
It fled
And we,
Indispensably inattentive
Rolled forward
Smooth wheels on rough ground
But maybe it didn't
Didn't flee after all
And we merely
Rolled forward
Rolled towards
Do I scream from the windows?
Or replant, in the same plant ***
Do I pound my thighs along lanes after it
With all that naughtiness
Of the troubled child?
I wonder if this is the sentence
For the crime of easy reliance
I wonder if belated repentance
Can push palms into the past
I wonder if tomorrow
Changes's hurricane arrives
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC