Wednesday, May 5, 2010

gradually you realize there's a dead dog strapped to yr spine

altho i love
the night

it's an effort
to somehow
get thru them

i long for those
effortless nights
as a boy

when thunder
was exciting

rain a game

darkness a thick

& sleep a chore

but one that came
w/ ease

full of
good dreaming
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.

Blog Archive