1 post tagged “luis”

The poem is the point at which our strength gave out.
Richard Rosen


I do not trade in
Beginnings      middles      ends
Such trinkets lurk or linger
Elsewhere. Find them for
Yourself.

~ * ~

The room at the end of it,
Is a forest, certainly. Sentinels
live there, who long for my skin
 And carve their initials upon it.
Like a miracle, I am made visible.

Afternoon light is perfect for reading
White rooms, which are dead, quiet
But whisper     like haunting     like
Memories      like time       like pages
Like you     Like I could     ever     forget.

I sleepwalk through another room.
On a starless night, the snow is
Endless, the sky unforgiving.
Desire freezes upon my cheeks
The way tears do.

This room, pulses with probabilities
Call it ours  Call it home    Call it    like it is
The radiator is on the fritz.
Like blood now and then,
We go cold.