29 May 2012



The songs of the dead

Play softly in my mind

Bittersweet remembrances

Of friendships lost to time

I am closer to them now

In the twilight of my misery

Who knows what lies

I will speak Into the night

What cold comfort

I’ll garner from my deception

These evil days are mine

To endure alone

In the privacy

Of my defective head


1 comment:

  1. The head have spoken, moved the lip and led the hand. The audience is startled. There is something utterly close and intimately compellig in your peerless craftsmanship, in this rich novel in a verse, in the confessors humanity