September 22

comments 12
Uncategorized

It’s too night,
unloved black-cat

black, as inked
punctuation,

looped pauses
and finalities, or more

like shaped as a glass,
not hollow, but wanting.

A night is a vessel,
a word, an arrival, still,

the shore never ceases
to surprise me,

and neither does
the sea.

Advertisements

12 Comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s