How hard is it to write in formal… In sonnet form with proper metre? A few short words written in rever… A rhythm that must not be let pete… And a story, usually of love
The tactile brush of pages across… Trace memories and images of thing… I hold here in my hand a collectio… Concentrated emotion holding more… Another, and I can cry again at t…
Ah! So now I take requests Apparently. You, sure and certain state the im… Of male genetalia in poetry!
We all take joy In jokes and tricks yes? And I have less to take joy in Elsewhere As I’ve friends, as long as I’m u…
I am no word-smith I am the anvil Beaten with a hard And heated hammer Scolded by others’
An image of foul fancy plagues me. A crowded desert of concrete; I see it all through artificial ey… Argus, though none sleep now. No… Wild eyed, we speak silence and
I miss your love, you press into me like you’re tryi… to be me lean so hard on me that I struggle… I’ll sit on the floor and hug you…
The flower in your hair Was a bit worse for wear the petals that remained Looked rather drained. Even the stalk was crushed.
Wings of wax and feathers plucked From your breast (not literal, min… But it sure felt like I was flyin… We’d laugh and you’d call me Icar… Always in danger of being
On the cold mornings Or days when washing hangs in my r… My window glazes and there are thr… I don’t clear them I wonder if the larger are mine, a…
I’ve seen others dumped Cast off and forgotten With sweet rotting I’ve seen them decompose Into sweet liquor as people
Wandering from point to point And stretching our legs We do what we do And we lay our eggs But no matter how large
In truth, There is no 'you’ You are but a lie, a clue You flatter yourself thinking, That my entire thought unceasing Is but on one individual,
The light of evening: Always wondered what Was so special about it But you dancing by Yourself and me
I find it hard to express happines… My tongue trips in unfamiliarity Whiskey calms that Drunk straight but mixed so heavil… With friendship and company