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Literature Text
The teary ice and
the dying leaves, am I the
only one, who sees?
~
Unnoticed by those,
narrow insouciant eyes,
nature fades, and dies
~
What am I to this,
but an idle observer
to apocalypse.
the dying leaves, am I the
only one, who sees?
~
Unnoticed by those,
narrow insouciant eyes,
nature fades, and dies
~
What am I to this,
but an idle observer
to apocalypse.
Literature
In the Syllable
...then there is a way in diswaiting.
Dust some yellow sand covers,
here uncover bare bedding.
...suffusing red planes, blushed dunes,
under incidentally quilted blanket
wet as arid curves, as sounds.
...in a persistent pavement,
in a solemn unsuited promise,
some written words erase
some letters drip and soak
unto a perfuse miracle,
a dislocated split,
a letting go of...
Literature
On Writing
all the words
all the senses
all the dirt and smell and roughness
the bursting heart
fresh cold water
CRASH of waves and then the ache within
trickling nothing tears and itching legs
all these things
someone wrote them, a bit.
How can you tell anyone
else? How can you thrust
the living today
into someone else's soul?
This is just a nut in a banana leaf.
Literature
apocryphal
so cunning and seemingly honest
at times there is nothing but wit
yet not quite real on the inside
but nothing we care to admit
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This one speaks for itself.
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Comments5
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Very nice.