by Lyn Lifshin
The screen door
shuts under dream
water and stars
fell from the sky
like wind blown
apples..
By dawn deer
browse in
abandoned orchards.
Dreams blossom with loss
as winter grass
dissolves and I can
almost feel fingers
I won’t, that you
sleepily touch
my hair. The summer
grass of your dark
hair, a ring, a locket
of longing
Friday, November 20, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Blog Archive
-
▼
2009
(98)
-
▼
November
(46)
- Whiskey and tooth pain
- The Peahen
- AFTER THE MURDER AT THE HOLOCAUST MUSEUM
- DAYS BEFORE THE DAY OF THE LONGEST LIGHT
- WALKING BACK FROM BALLET, JUNE 17
- "Just Remember to Translate Your Hand Movements In...
- BLACK RAIN, HIROSHIMA
- SHE SAID THE GEESE
- IN THE VA HOSPITAL
- Night Moves
- Ten Gallon Hat Dance
- cribnotes for paradise's tribunal
- SOME LOVERS
- PASSING ARLINGTON CENTER
- OTHER LOVERS
- "Down at the J and Flying"
- "Words of the Unprofound"
- FORCING BUDS
- Duck Hunt
- That Person
- Honeymoon in the Garden Apartment
- UNHOLY BOWLING
- “INDEED, WHY DIDN’T WE?”
- WHY DIDN’T WE?
- REMEMBERING LATER IT’S THE ANNIVERSARY OF WHEN MY ...
- get it together
- LIKE FALLING MADLY IN LUST WHEN JUST HEARING A DEA...
- I’M GLAD YOU ARE AT PEACE
- I STARTED OUT ON BURGUNDY
- Once Southbound
- Country Cafeteria
- Eurydice
- The Freeway to the Interior
- Private Moon
- spiders and crows
- Hands.
- WOULDN'T YOU LOVE TO HAVE ME
- Poem For A Political Poet
- emily dickinson’s attic
- June and July 1968 Revisited
- my folks
- THAT DAY, MY BIRTHDAY
- against forgetting
- “Kingless Days”
- Dracula
- Living with Jesus
-
▼
November
(46)
No comments:
Post a Comment