I wonder sometimes if I am being honest as the words sort of come to me whole cloth. Can I be truly honest with ideas flowing through this big coffee filter of a head ? I suppose I have not tried to lie with poetry, that might be a challenge to embark on. How would one go about that anyway? Something to ponder on a Friday morning (in the northeast US anyway). So in lieu of the topic I just expounded about, here are a couple of unrelated poems from early 2018. As usual thoughts, comments and bearer bonds are all appreciated.
“untitled” 2018
are you
a winter sun
just as bright
just as distant
waking the world
warm summer to the south
a cold distance to the light
from my north
frigid dawn
for those above
and I wait
axis shift
“heat under the skin” 1/2018
the skin aches for sin
grasps clamors claws
lust gnaws
rakes upon flesh
raw embers
sweat simmers
ready to mount
desire boils
blind white
fire blisters
poised to strike
Nothing witty to say but I will post a music link as I am known to do…
Toad the Wet Sprocket “Nightingale Song”
great song for driving around with the windows down.
