Wednesday, October 21, 2009

October 20, 2009

strange brew . . .
the froth of winter
the monk's resolve
to keep each candle it

a few stars
tonight,  beneath caterpillar's

i lost the
foot race when i
woke up . . .
my wife beating
me with her fists

the sun's heart
beat in winter . .

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