Monthly Archives: March 2017

Prolific

The runners keep stumbling, their knees torn and red
The rhythms in my head forgot 

they were dead
Though my irises tangle and blur up my thoughts
I’ll keep up this singing til the death-dancers stop. 

Advertisements

Building!

How long have now I slept 

While worry-heart within me wept
And rattled the bars of its room
And clashed like a cymbal entombed

What bitter potion silvered my eyes
To such cataracts and cobwebs
They sugar-coated the ledge, they bled into my pupils and 

I

Saw

Red

My vision now strikes back, 
each poem written reacts
With the phrases dilating my gaze. 
My worries will all keep away.