Monday, October 18, 2010

Last Pain….

A hazy silence over the moors,
collecting like dregs of broken dreams.

My feet sink into the dead leaves,
and the last of the summer’s leaves
go flying through my soul,
like a flight of falling stars.

The last pain is ending...
in the delicate mist of the dawn.
And above the last of the partings,
the last of the leaves blow down.


Last night you wrote your sonnets in  Braille: the commas, parenthesis, ellipses engraved perfectly on my skin- and  I  ...