The wayward dove drove to paradise.
Under split wings and partial decay,
under the wooden steps she took her last flight in a Cadillac.
She spoke her secret to no one and the mumbled, fumbled words
transpired into hums from her throat.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Sweet Spirit
At night, the stairs of this old house creaks Whispering to me, sweet spirit sleeping soundly during the night. The shadow movements, the ...
-
Placed in a hole, I’m waiting for a beacon to shine its light upon my hand. To look at you straight into eyes, cast down up cement memories....
-
We are the agents of despair knocking on your door. If you answer you will see a sickle and scythe, We are not malicious nor will we come af...
-
Time did not stand still It shaped its road for us to leave the past To rain soaked pavements, fallen leaves, high altitudes underneath the ...