Tag: point
group name: theromantics
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November 23, 2008 12:11 AM EST --
Everything returns
"Returns are welcome"
is written over the sealed envelope
of his life. His first pet,
which came from near-death
and with his help,
became . . .
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January 31, 2009 11:45 PM EST --
February expressions
Nothing exists before this, only void;
a genesis, a self born fetus floats
amid blank darkness… this is how he feels
when her lips connive to create new world. . . .
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August 07, 2008 09:42 AM EDT --
A ctress
==
The clotheshorse, old and scruffy holds
the array of her dresses. She needs them.
She needs them even more than foods
to satisfy her half . . .
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November 20, 2008 08:54 AM EST --
Telescope
Blue is blending into blue, indigo,
heliotrope; ancient stars are melting
together into the ultimate formless.
A night through this telescope rekindles . . .
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November 21, 2008 09:11 AM EST --
Rainbow competetion writing
Gray particles move
The dusts of thought settle on top
of the bleak table strewed with scraps.
Look at the window, the gray sky
can be seen like an old . . .
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November 24, 2008 06:30 AM EST --
Answer of the heart
Still you would have said you don't care.
The suitcase has been fed with his signs of life.
A crow at the window sill
is warning you of a loss. Agony.
Moments are . . .
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December 05, 2008 10:01 PM EST --
Prism
He stoops and picks up his diamond.
A piece of broken prism, some may say.
It has been on the dirt.
He looks up
albeit there is no chandelier to be seen.
The place . . .
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January 14, 2009 09:38 PM EST --
wintry house
Wednesday writing essential
The long tortuous road with wintry wind
playing with fistful of dirt thrown at us.
With a cloud over our heads we
used . . .
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January 15, 2009 09:34 PM EST --
Wood Ants See
(Thursday writing essential)
A stream of wood ants is climbing
and vanishing into the cracks
on the peeling barks of the tree.
The horde of wet clouds . . .
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February 24, 2009 09:41 PM EST --
Ev idence
I live inside a dead watch,
still and fixed in a perpetual moment
when the small killing bullet
inserted through the glass, shattered it and stuck.
The lifeless . . .
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March 04, 2009 09:34 PM EST --
Voices
(TO THE WOMEN- VI)
Is he again into some sort of mess?
With his cell phone put to sleep it can be.
Her deep fears swarm like hungry fleas.
She remembers . . .
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May 28, 2009 06:57 AM EDT --
Tasmanian Devil, d ying
The smell of food is changing course with wind,
the weathercock seems to chase its own tail;
I can smell you too, watching for a devil.
What bullet . . .
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April 04, 2009 10:43 PM EDT --
A m a il from t h e vac a tion
Mom, here is sun in this country;
more than you can imagine...
more than the amount poured in
your whimsical green patch. . . .
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January 28, 2009 09:39 PM EST --
Street Artist
Rain soaked wet road, each of the drops
of cold has their own avenue
of pain. A carpet bag hangs from your
shoulder. Rolled cheap canvases of
drawings and sketches, . . .
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November 25, 2008 08:05 AM EST --
A dinner to be thankful of
A dinner to be thankful of
The brown corpse of crispy bird is just out
of the touch of fire, in its breast
the gluten free fillings are warm like the . . .
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January 13, 2009 09:56 PM EST --
Evenin g is crossing
Stumble down to your knee,
the sun is passing through the shadowy crucifix.
A shrill cry of a kite in search of eternity
comes down.
The evening clouds . . .
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February 19, 2009 09:49 PM EST --
Wi th C h a o s T h e r e i s n o t h e ory
A fistful of anarchy
enters in his dome of silence; . . .
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February 22, 2009 09:40 PM EST --
Illusion
She unwraps illusion under this year’s Christmas tree.
A bit of sleep is hanging still, from her glassy eyes.
Sounds around the house have adopted the zen belief;
the nothingness . . .
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February 28, 2009 09:46 PM EST --
Un perturbed
(To women III)
Lately so many deceased have come to the present tense
he fumbles to separate times often.
She smiles at him in the way she used to in past.
. . .
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July 13, 2008 08:37 AM EDT --
A blank call
This road ends in another and she knows
that will somehow amalgamate into
the one now he lives. Sky conjures raindrops.
Hate is what she feels at times. Then again . . .
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