PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Lips
Buried

Worms were
Our terms of
Beauty

Ask the
Rain
Then
Is the wind
Silver
Dawn

Ask the winter
Who shapes god
Frail while the
Fire
Walks among
The eyes
&
Will be brave
Enough
To die

For now the audience
Is young
Keeping awkward hours with strangers
For now the audience will cut
Open the lung
For if I know now
Of such mirrors
This script & string will be all secrets
Of such certain gloom true