Monday, January 5, 2009

Welsh-flecked
‘Romance’

In the laughing house
strewn in the plum dappled
peach tricking meadow,
A thicket of blackberried
hummingbirds steal my form.
That I may gaze through the
fawn breast light
at the glimmers of hyacinth hair
and the ripple of your farm hued
body sawing and bailing, in
briny brilliantine hallow.

Till ash evening
falls and I return to the
dragonfly blight in
the onyx ribboned hills
that fill me with the
quarry of your absence
tracing unkissed lips, pale
in the time skewered dusk.

1 comment:

Jesus Crisis said...

Wow... this is fantastic! Perfectly said.... Now I want to go through your blog and read everything.