strange brew . . .
the froth of winter
thickening
the monk's resolve
to keep each candle it
a few stars
tonight, beneath caterpillar's
blanket
i lost the
foot race when i
woke up . . .
my wife beating
me with her fists
the sun's heart
beat in winter . .
missing
i can't
deny the emptiness
i feel tonight
knowing your words
are no longer
under my
blanket a few stars
to wrestle
between my
my teeth, pieces
of seaweed
waiting for their
hearts to explode
is it winter,
a dream, the moon
sipping coffee?
if only i
could seize the anger
i have for
you and hurl it
back into the sea
like every
night, star's without
a blanket
by robert d. wilson
© 2009
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