Saturday, July 09, 2011

Spooning in Catacombs

The world the world
a traveler slowly levitates
circulates the structure of jazz
and only a portion of sleepless conflict.

Sleepless sleepless a grain of sand
in the eye of the moon
strange and spectral beads drawn
on the floor, an apathy of curtains.

A blade in the fireplace,
a peaceful walk in the park,
spooning in catacombs,
a smell of violets.


Rina Tripathi said...

Beautiful poetry...

Keecia Buster said...
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Keecia Buster said...

I haven't been using my blogspot, and thought I should change that. Then I started catching up on blogs I began to follow. Very nice work, here.