Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

This old heart of mine meets quitting time, 
cringes in a cage with no way out; 
concurrence with occurrence of spurs jabbed in the muscle, 
bright pain shines a sacristy of black light shreds. 
What arrives will go in the undertow 
of variable waves of loathing and fear; 
currents grasp feet below the tidal ripples, 
dragging downward to fathomless oyster beds. 
Driftwood tossed, located, lost and drowned 
beneath sebaceous trauma of the reef; 
sails disease on seven seas of distalgesia, 
until the shore recedes, no knowing of where she lies. 
Whoever may weep as I take sleep forever, 
and would their tears bleed sentiment sincerity? 
Who goes there, who alone would care in reality 
for driftwood drifting slowly from their eyes?

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