"littlely" poems
when, under duress
the sun forgets to wake
and just lets the clouds have their say, white
is the same as grey.
i for one, alone, for too
think littlely and slow, with an anger
that bates my silver breath
i am not gilded, to be seen
but small. i must remember
i am not precious. i hate
and my lungs fill with sour water.
but when the sun
under duress, forgets to wake,
the clouds will say other things too.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
(there is always this moment)
quietly . littlely
soft within
bed and thinking
of lips eyes hair
breathing
still and strenuously
pressed beneath breast .
the heart feels
and pushes against
rib and spine;
(a fan plays
/
the cat eats)
and lingers little sleep,
for thought is always
and always of thoughts
there is something
somewhere
difficultly serene
improbable to touch
yet touches with
exacting grace;
My dear:
My love
of nothing
Little which
you are
not real
your hand is a vapor
of tense reeling to tingle
under skin which rushes
with clovered spice
of splintered health.
(my love i have always loved you
that you are not something real;
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:11 AM UTC