Tuesday, December 14, 2010

211 - 220


slept on thoughts planted

like stacked mattresses on peas

sewn restless, soon reaped


spat lies from lips

subtle as missing teeth

a gap. stop.


under warm gray skies

my dad and I walk the beach

tiptoe over rocks


am i green to think

what is will not die like leaves

off trees in winter


born in the heartbeat

between soar up and plummet

waits flight's relative


soft dawned ophelia

to be drawn into words not

to be drowned by ink


silt sand burial

retrieval of an era

weathered to feathers


after you ate, left

i broke the plate washing it

i got cut, before.


little bear bumble

soft tumble thru bramble sticks

fall, sting bees, the hive


we dine by the tracks,

watch the weight of freight talk the

table into dance

No comments:

Post a Comment