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Blog Title Photo

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Breathe





Breathe, disgrace our presence,
The peace which I always open,
Is an awful hidden, and daunting, reserve.
Man you can hide perfume, the glory owes you money.
Be her man, I suffer,
I need to see who you are, so she can see love.
Hindustan, my arty tea, you menstruate, lie and wish.
Model, I've a database!
My language was never meant to abuse.
Confront fear, Observe, I sculpted her man,
Parlay, all in pain.
We must hurry, see in tea, a secret sin.
At best, I see all.
You heard,
I have her city, willing.


with Eva Moll, July 21, 2006, 52, 53, 54   Part I, Part II


The Muse Poems:

   1  2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36
37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45
46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54
55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63
64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72
73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81


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