Pencilling it in
Is a fireplace the ash, the wood or the flame?
Do adders silently slither as they sum?
Words masque darkness when they want to.
Face loneliness peacefully, Oh.
She was a sweet friend to hold wisdom
Or my face, dry of thought.
A Goddess lost me; belong my love, where
Laughter -- a father, sharp -- quiets wood rafters.
Capability: Alive, I listen for my thoughts:
their wish and their lack.
"What now?", a moment needing kindness and freedom
Rolled in a bolt of maximum twill: scheme your
Love home.
A spark, to which I call in throes of annihilation,
Illuminates the question from above. Love
Finds my mom's reply: "None."
Was that Harvard?
No comments:
Post a Comment
Go Ahead: Comment.