because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

searching

ginter, observatory

She sips cold coffee
late on a Sunday
waiting for the week to
overtake her, ennui
and uncombed hair
pushed back from her face
by images burned like whiskey
into the clenched confines of her gut:
housekeys abandoned to
dewed grass one summer’s
violet ending; dying flowers
of a spring flung out wide
over barren shoulders;
the roughened heels
of her soul’s master
pacing always
three steps ahead.
Brushing back strands
and consciousness
an unmoved midnight
passes hollowly
and she swallows,
searching, bitter
all the way down.

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3 responses

  1. Ah……..Finally!
    Ennui, damn, one of my favorite words, dig this poem and of course, always worth waiting for your next piece.

    March 23, 2009 at 11:58 am

  2. i like some of the pieces….but i wonder…why poem is filled with images….i mean…der is succession of recalled images in words….and then its a collage….obviously no conclude….
    is poem….a succession of images? i m jus askin’

    April 14, 2009 at 8:38 am

  3. manish,

    for me, a good poem paints a picture of an instant, or a collection of instants, makes you see them, taste them. it doesnt have to come to a point. my work has always been very visual. thanks for the feedback and for stopping by.

    April 14, 2009 at 9:04 am

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