Twenty-nine steps, you count to three. fifty-two crossed and feet move free. Summer nights we both can foresee. Twenty-one held, don’t you agree.
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Through folding-doors,
came to me as you did,
the time before.
Rarest of visits,
three in all.
No urban sprawl,
a passing bell,
reaching the toll.
Limbs stepped
out of frame,
in the gap,
a yellow dawn.
Freestanding the wall,
win scored with scrawls.
What do I bring?
What you hold,
you own it all.
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Eyes wide open,
throat sore
singing songs
of the blind.
Line drawn
on line,
drunk on vanity
all a waste
of your time.
Foes closer
than friends,
when they
come in disguise.
Shutters cut out
the heat,
inner red
overflowing,
endurance is
when you
do not die.
Continue reading
Eyes wide open,
throat sore
singing songs
of the blind.
Line drawn
on line,
drunk on vanity
all a waste
of your time.
Foes closer
than friends,
when they
come in disguise.
Shutters cut out
the heat,
inner red
overflowing,
endurance is
when you
do not die.
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