Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Death is Flighty; He Can Never Tell Me the Time. Feb.20.2011
When Death sucked on my ankles
I fell deeper into myself;
Afraid of the hole that might settle there.
An eyeless friend
who knows not what she does.
I fell onto a bench.
(On 14th st, you know)
Back on the street again
Dizzy
I sipped
Raised a ghost palm
too afraid to ask what time it was
Because they'd laugh, they would.
At my sagging eyes and pitiful mouth.
And would they have the right?
Say 'yes' but answer:
Would they have the obligation;
To make me lick the floor some more?
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