Saturday, August 28, 2010

St. Augustine (patron of brewers, painters, theologians, those with sore eyes)


I bit straight

to the seed,


pulled the strings

of fruit from between

my teeth and


called it a day.


the sky is not

gold.


the streets are wet

with night.


I heard you singing

in a nearby house


and I wished

I could slam


all the shutters

closed.


1 comment:

  1. yes. i love the simplicity and simultaneous depth of your writing.

    ReplyDelete