inthemidst

"Poetry about the snow" That's what you think, my conceptual 'Romeo'? Like a stage has been set for our abstract talk show, We wander soaking our skin in the city's syrupy glow. The splinters of streetlight were stitches on scars, In this pavement garden, with porcelain stars - My lips launched bullets so brilliantly bitter, Your tongue tangled them gently in gold till they glittered. "Poetry about the snow" That's what he said, with his grin like an undertow. And his voice like the ice melting much too slow, On a night clinging close as the curves on a phantom pillow. More heavy than honey this hunger for clarity, In a combustib