Monday, 19 January 2015

just as

this is where i leave you and
tomorrow’s night time will be
just as potent as this writers
traumatized back. for sideways
is where we stand and
i know not of any straighter ropes
around his eyes.
our cries are strangled with portraits
and i am still piecing together this
married coffee.
this is real life and with or without
damp skies; butterflies become.











                                                                                                                                   


this will be my last poem

so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...