Love is shameful, but only so
when love has been ashamed
Gates torn down in unison,
and loving flows untamed.
Better like a garden tended
to, 'till blossom takes its course
Like gently snipping at the stem,
whereas to take by force.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Thursday, May 9, 2013
When Fires Frothed Between The Wakes
When fires frothed between the wakes
forgotten past the hill,
despite their blindnesses, I waved
to those who wished me ill.
It burns on forward, the ardor
that marred the forest floor,
where trees imbibed with chlorophyll
are ashen at their core.
The embers snapped underfoot,
when all the rest was Hell
I came to where a bridge should be
and that had burned as well.
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