questions haunt the waking man
in the blazing air of morning,
his breath the needle piercing blood;
red rhythms of the glass-bored voice of night.
change has devoured yesterday's laughter,
drunk slowly the ghostly desires broken free
as the killing universe listens, each wild-born day
and beats naked life, with a lingering kiss of decay.
Wow! Such stunning potency in these words - they have grabbed me by the throat and won't let go.
ReplyDeleteI liked the entire thing, but if you were to have just made a poem of the last two lines I would have liked it just as much. :)
ReplyDelete