Interval Poems - Poems about Interval

Typecast pivot rips past apart Scars inflicted by the furnace Scatter derma with war stars Astronomy faraway magnifies Little shards of light filaments Filtered shadow breaks brittle ...

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He was a tramp steamer mate, She an Amsterdam whore That he met in a street bar On a few hours leave ashore. They pretended they were lovers, Maybe a new husband and wife And, just for a few hours tried To live a day in that life. He wined her and dined her Tried to do everything right Booked a hotel room Just for...

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There at the beginning of the day's edge or late in the day, early in the night they missed each other ...

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I When I knew I am but space When all bodies are distilled We learn only space filled Us, with energy as interface II Death separates birth and birth We never learn this at school Ask a wave its beginning (Fool, I am, until water said "I'm first")...

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endless boredom, isolated renditions survive to provoke enchantment end route.... intrepid segments juxtaposed ...

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a tapas interval tiny portions to while away the time of stressful day 8/1/2015...

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The Interval I drank a city, the smells , the debts, the clouds of shutting doors and shuttered widows (and widowers) their new TV’S, the dream drug that takes away your mind, your place: some police look at you like your about to die, or something like that and I return to the interval...

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Till now, You didn't answer My many letters sent. No reply to my hearts' longing. Elegant words devised for response failed. Now, who is knocking on my door? You, grinning sheepishly. Gone, my gloom, then Till now....

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They vie out in dim farm-fields, the smoke and the stars. Not for touch, blood, or gold; just a hundred seconds more. I am awake so I must decide. it’s unfair, she said, we both know that. And what responsibility isn’t I had said. I yawn and drive past the dead deer on Millersport Highway. Great. It’s not her. It’s me. Stopped; but the day is never that, is...

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Two pages later and two poems in between, The bench we sat on and I. My heart sold, but not bought, Remember the rain, and we got caught It was never so lovely, or welcomed I have tried, but only cried,and My tears overwhelmed the rain. Two pages later and two poems in between, The bench we sat on and I....

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