anarchist

I finally got back into writing poetry again, and maybe leaving the novel on hold for the next couple of days. I think I needed to write poetry, because I think I wanted to see something finished. Where with a novel, you wonder if you are ever going to be done. Thought I would throw some shite up... just for the curious.

Suspire

Held in your eyes,
your mouth,
to be sipped like water - from tip to tip.
To repeat that I itch,
like an elephant with fleas,
again,
and again,
and again,
to suspire for this itch again.


Nothing Else

In this desert,
with grains of sand - and nothing else,
I thought of you,
and the ways I use to disappear into your eyes.


Expellant

This expellant voice,
long and weak,
heating my ear with flame.
What little words,
or tiny sentences,
or phrases that are senseless,
could pass your lips,
to find refuge within my mind.


Speak

Each other's eyes - wide and splendid,
this air between us solid.
Speaking sentances,
though there exist no voice to speak.
Our pattern of lenses cleared,
our black pearls lightened.
Today, we are no longer human,
merely animals - lost in something else.