I am the anvil that rings
with each hammer falling,
a star impacting, exploding, desiring, denying
that I love so deep, so much;
I feel when I hear you hurt, your voice
like butterflies in my ears,
the tautness of a drum
within my heart.
Archive for March 19, 1993
A Sunrise over the Phone
Posted: March 19, 1993 in PoetryTags: Butterfly, Drum, Heart, Love, Star, Sun
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these fingers are filled with blood
that time wears down to bone.
obsessive, driven to write
and blister, chafing without
a rest, a reminder of hard work
dropped out and tuned in
to static; the station’s gone dead.
what do we do without direction?
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