TINY DANCERS BY AHREND TORREY
I can’t think of anything more beautiful
than waking in the morning to pups whining
their yips of sound, that knows precisely
how to enter the very pores of my skin
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I can’t think of anything more beautiful
than waking in the morning to pups whining
their yips of sound, that knows precisely
how to enter the very pores of my skin
Have you ever
wanted to become
a mythic character
maybe Andromeda
chained naked to a
rock for boasting of beauty?
Once I
loved that aging aunt who tried
to seduce death, then blamed me
when I pulled her from his arms.
The poem on her t-shirt had all
the grabbers at the start
Listen! You can hear the glaze of ice
dribbling from the trees.
It is the sound of a distant music,
as though someone were plucking
an ancient instrument
Posted by admin | Jul 13, 2016 | Visual Art | 0 |
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