Equin |
No splashes here.His friends are beats on the red clay.No angels below, Just a warmth of day,to guide her tears between his scars. As the clopping's bring her chorus,He listens,a snort, a mist in the ...
Posted by on Tue, 25 Nov 2008 03:46:00 GMT |
No here... |
He was taken,
viciously,
the moment their lips curled spaces between tigers.
Paws and evenings run to the orange fear,
pursuing the scar-ridge.
His eyes narrow as he&...
Posted by on Tue, 24 Jun 2008 05:50:00 GMT |
Dawn... |
Your legs drape me like silk curtains,
your voice calling through slivers of light like a whisper.
"Baby, I love you", you say.
In silent moments I feel your worries,
soft, tender ...
Posted by on Mon, 09 Jun 2008 11:27:00 GMT |
All imperfect things... |
So crisp now,
the dipping half-moon,
the balcony here, she leans on,
as planes drone and fade.
Passengers, watching, fumbling,
upward drafts within a squall of roars.
He nudges her and points.
"Y...
Posted by on Mon, 10 Dec 2007 21:29:00 GMT |
Lichen... |
This year the summer bled deep into autumn.
He watched the tracers of his neighbor's fire,
and breathed
cinder and ash.
His thoughts turn to scorching heat,
In the blue-cold of a brittle le...
Posted by on Fri, 30 Nov 2007 01:26:00 GMT |
Tired Noose... |
Tired NooseSo now it is through,like a rose that wants to be seen from wide oak trees,The sky now pregnant with grays and flashing eyelids.Seven nights I hang here,the rope filing my spine.Moments of ...
Posted by on Fri, 14 Sep 2007 07:06:00 GMT |
