Wednesday, January 16, 2013

No longer tight in the bud

DSCF0008poet of no mean
proportion short-lived van gogh
of words bent to self
destruction on paths
to knowing raw pleasure love
parallel of hate
lips a line drawn thin
no resemblance to a mouth
dry laughter dying
pall not here at all
lids distort the sound of eye
winter’s brittle bones
break on siren’s rocks
desperate to leave the bud
finally blossom

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