Shadows embrace the lampposts; lovers
kiss each other on the outskirts of town,
lose their fingertips in a dream. In the park
aliens measure the insanity of caterpillars
with tiny obsidian forks. Creatures inside the
distant stars try to laugh again, little creatures.
Clouds eat away creased fingers of the ageless,
and nothing but gold disappoints the reach.
Tulips silently erode every bedroom,
winos go either postal or fishing,
hobos stuff mailboxes with sliced haloes.
What for, you may want to ask. Or why
snakes conceal their joy like stolen wine,
like a withered chandelier or unwritten music.
No one is going to answer. No one is trying to raise
the eyelids of ketchup and toothpaste this evening.


2 thoughts on “S

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s