|
The dark is, most times, comforting to be withlate at night. He'll deny the light of things I don't want to talk about;bribe the sun to come back late..
|
|
On my right shoulder sits a devil.He urges me to indulge in my desires; to encourage womenwith lewd commentary. On my left shoulder, sits an angel of ..
|
|
An old one on the observation of poets.
|
|
~Echoes of You~Your ghost hides in corners of our wrinkled sheetsreaching out transparent hands to grasp at my foolishness.I've never enjoyed swimming..
|
|
I will plant daffodils at your grave.And when they've grownand blossomed,when they're huggedby an appricot-colored sun,I'll see them exist,cheerful in..
|
|
Empty rooms in empty halls.
|
|
The yellow sunlight ~ bright and warm,Crawled one morning on my bedroom floor.Was sluggish as a sleeper stretching his form,Creep~creep~creeping to th..
|
|
Sometimes I feel like screaming.Inside a laundry mat's luminous sleepy window,among the low-pitched, hypnotizing humof stainless steel washers and dry..
|
|
Those mighty trees that spread their armswere once as tall as you.And none have felt the sweeping strokesof what a saw could do.Yet underneath those s..
|
|
With smoghovering amongcrevicesof a sleepy citythe sun rosefrom slumberheedful of rainon the way.Soonas increasing showersdiffused puddleson shiny str..
|
first
prev
1
|
|