shithouse poetry

10 July 2013 § Leave a comment

suspicious sun, an emerald sea -we observers focus on wind, and sail.
what becomes of tides where no waves collide?
what composes human folly, then,
if we decide that love will stumble
before it falls on us?

===

who watched in agony the
cliffside chaos, wind caught
chorus, wild music ringing?
sunset’s but some heaven
leasing demons through
a fiery gate, a needle threaded.

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