Sunday, April 20, 2014

In Memory Of

I watch the embers in Merlot.
More blood than conflagration,
more sunset draining along King.
And everything becomes
indistinct, a muddy vision that
quickly disappears.  Sunrise is
too short, too momentary an
awakening.  Day races by until
it’s blood-letting time again;
that memory put to rest.


Shisa Poet said...

See, there is an upsode to working every day. You get blood red sunrises on King Street!

me again said...


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