Saturday, 6 September 2014

1 New Poem

Names I Remember
The track-marked rhythm of motorbike engines,
every wheeling reel suffused in classic rock
twang, each hesitant quiver at midnight's door
in turnkey slash of tremor haunts.
They push against more wicked in ways,
replacing this all with brick cast and concrete;


I still believe in haphazard promise of
green thrushlings at dawn, the
running waters rush of daybreak,
the thought of sweet scent carried
on winding pine thistles in caligraphic
winds, shaping Superior currents into old


No comments:

Post a Comment