Friday, October 19, 2012

The Buried Return

Strange shapes
solidify at sight's end.

Pain is a promise,
the starlit desert song

of despair.  There is a plan,
choreographed cruel blue

behind that vast red
rage, empty and unanchored.

My pride before me, a tin shield.
The mind shredding vacuum

dismantles me
unanesthetized.

No comments:

Post a Comment