Fields of Poetry

I don't know how to love him
What to do, how to move him
I've been changed. Yes, really changed
In these past few days when I've seen myself
I seem like someone else . . .

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Sleepless Nights

Medical Beat

The night I ditched the sleeping pills          
and stalked the flickering green corridor 
I felt the air blow a curdling chill     
and there it appeared as a condor.
Perched amply on a wing chair    
its chin resting upon its clavicle         
with a physiognomy bane and bare           
I pondered at the beastly barnacle:            
A carnivorous kite of sheer madness      
with hunger no man has yet discerned -- 
with blood it rivets neurosis,                     
holding captive the eidolons.       

And so to it made I a simple oath
That I shall come to it before I go.

Revised Version 2011©

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