We Poets

are obsessed with light
dimming as it reflects off
the surface of rippling

waters; with the way
a heart can come apart
piece by piece in your hand,

the weight and feel of it,
hollow and wooden against
the hand (when I toss it

into the air, I could mistake
it for an anatomy model). We
are enthralled by the destruction

of a city, of the rubble and the sound
of bombs just after they have gone off.
We poets have trouble letting go

of any of it, we’re looking for something
in every thing. We want to make sure
no pain is ever in vain.


Filed under Frustrations and Rants, lust and love, Musings

4 responses to “We Poets

  1. split ends

    Incredibly delicious…

  2. Pingback: A few favorites: « Split Ends

  3. split ends

    (I linked; hope that’s OK. Too good not to share.)

  4. gosling

    I’m so glad split ends did link. oh, this is lovely.

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