Poems from CH

CH's picture
Everyday must be its own
What time is it? If I told you it's 1:37 And you wrote 1:37 This poem exists at 1:37 Then it must be 1:37 Forever and ever and ever.
I want to love you the way a glacier drags Slow and steady and long and forever.   Understand, I do not love you any less for my tortoise...
The smell of perfume  of shuffling innards And the queasy stench of sweat   Whispers on the phone Covert conversations of bank accounts ...
Two young ducklings swam  In a river bathed with red A river of blood Their pitch silhouettes glancing off the water As shadows, as shapes...
The time spent in transition  Not quite there but not quite waiting either Not without purpose yet pointless, Endless   The walk to school...

Pages