Bonfire
that phone goes dead
when it is done
whatever the emotional
weather
it’s cold
inside though hearts are
always drawn in red hot reputations
for overturning choices
of that
ice pick brain
un-answer again
getting
is a warm glow a
hearth a
fire
calling
hilltop to hilltop
some tribe
or other set in
motion
sent
into the world
when the smoke suffocates
I don’t think you feel the sear
across the windpipe shallow breaths
gaze fixed
there inside the
mirror
one
day of exaltation
enlarged apart
Phones are modern smoke signals.
ReplyDeleteYou can always choose not to look.
ice picking yr brains
ReplyDeletenever ends well
...
consider Trotsky
though Alice in the mirror
will be queen at last
shake that cat
and shake it fast
I never seem to look at the right time lol
ReplyDelete