Thursday, March 24, 2022

cafe poem #...well, I've lost count


agony can find no foothold

where birds swim over bare trees

clouds are plush strokes

so many paint brush footprints

 

I can hear people speaking

some of it hurried, some hush

as need desires

as desire needs

 

something pulls these phalanges, muscles

tendons, ligaments, to pen this poem

not razor thin wires fueled by fire

but creaky gears and assemblages

 

from a deep pocket of want

I lack satisfaction, hoping

some answer might come

knocking at my bedroom door

when I am deepest in slumber

mouth open as close to trusting

as it has been

since I let myself slip

into mid-life

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