Home

Poetry

 


Life passes through the mind,
each episode slipping
into some inaccessible archive
rarely unlocked or lighted,
burned in the end by death.

Poetry is about death,
preserving fragments on the fragile page
hoping to carry into the future
dead dramas from the grave.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: