Thursday, December 9, 2010

eventually

eventually
the
roses
become
a
bouquet
of
butcher
knives

edges
endlessly
sharp

tips
pointing
forever
Posted by at
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.