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Corner StormSpun the Corner Storm to an old radio tune with tamborines and a violin. I tried while I could to sing her a silver verse, but it always seems when she comes around in all that malice, I try to keep her on my wrists for as long as she'll stay -- covered by my coat sleeves. I couldn't tell you why. I can never write it the same as I can think it.Corner Storm
by ~Undique
Dirtied White WingsHad a Dream.Dirtied White Wings
I was Eternal -- with a span of wings. White; dirtied from my language. And everyone acclaimed these poems. Not because they were any good -- they're not. No, people read them because the rest read them. Trying to be a part of something -- part of the Eternal Poet.
by ~Undique
A Middle Aged ManA gentle wind will carry a Bird -- carries sails on a motionless ocean. Egyptians wrote love poems with the Swallow at the head of their ships. Each shining star was the Bird, carried on gentle winds -- to leave the restless. I'm waited down through others; pushing and pulling through crowds. I'd want to keep my sight, when shining bright. This dull scratching is wearing on my tired fingers. "Tap tap," rapes the Weatherman. "A cold front is on her way."A Middle Aged Man
by ~Undique
ShepherdSitting at the water's front man; homeless; asks me for a cigarette. "I'm trying to die," he says. "Jump that bridge;" hand him from my mouth, after another breath. Another morning -- here comes her afternoon. Another man -- here comes his story he's persevered to tell strangers. Stains on your hand; or coat, if you wipe it off. Following like the pigeon to a crumb -- a dime -- a half a cigarette.Shepherd
by ~Undique
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