Michael Zymon Z, 13 lutego 2012
He raised his sessile butt…
For what?
Just his blue-face, no breath, last collapse.
Michael Zymon Z, 13 lutego 2012
She was born of the new spring chill
Energized, new life tide;
My very dream personified.
I cried.
She nursed on wobbly legs,
And loved to play at mommy’s side,
And then, in pain, she died.
My dream personified, denied;
Her lost soul, most decried.
To purge my grief, and until red eyed,
I cried. I cried. I cried.
Michael Zymon Z, 13 lutego 2012
A whole orange,
abed in garden soil,
Decaying into a new orange tree.
Michael Zymon Z, 11 lutego 2012
Move to me.
Move with me;
Ahh, ahh, spill, spill, spill.
Michael Zymon Z, 11 lutego 2012
My thunder-drum delights
diminish now;
fading in lost youth echoes.
Michael Zymon Z, 11 lutego 2012
Ah, the night by candlelight,
Ah, the night by stars.
Neither light burns all that bright,
Just enough to sear my scars.
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