Wednesday, January 9, 2013


In time colored happy by past glances from you
I swing back and forth the pendulum
and wander empty-eyed
through two-edged memories.

Driftwood unmeant for sea or shore,
but fire
burns red then black,
the wooden heart of wanting.

Wood that feeds on fire
plants new trees
and roars enflamed
more fertile than before.

Oh reckless love,
losing the half of you
you gained when loving
the terror of halves welded...
is the sound of ripping,
disrupting things soft
and bleeding--
the evidence and color of love.


Lena said...

This helps me to humble myself about my english language skills.

Lena said...

я уже хочу новый