1.09.2012




again 
this blanket washes over me cold
just before the warmth of resignation kicks in
i shiver at promise
at frozen rejection
at love
it’s no use to pose a question
i’ve been warming my hands too long
hello
alone


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2 comments:

  1. mythopolis09:29

    In reading this poem I felt it, so to speak. Felt meanings are wordless in their moment. Only later do we try to find some words to suit them to say what was understood wordlessly. Maybe that is what poetry is....

    "The heart has reasons, that reason does not know." Pascal.

    ReplyDelete
  2. temporal rooms09:37

    yes YES!

    ReplyDelete

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