February 24, 2011

The words

somehow lead

the way,

slipping down

steep banks

of desire

and longing

and the wish that wasn’t there

after all.

This ink

runs before me

on yellow pages lined

like roads that take me

forever nowhere

While slivers of dark

diamond eyes

Peer through the trees


their mangled tents

lining the streets

like beggars hoping for

a holy word:

Go and sin no more.

Dry empty clouds


a blanket of warm air

falling all over me

like a blessing.

Image by Nance