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A perfect picture of modesty. A physically superior being.
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Don't you remember the hand photographs we used to take, With our index fingers and thumbs?
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The trees began to burn.
The flames sending a little bird flying higher in to the sky to escape.....
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The cartel,
However delicate,
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Maybe the end sounds like.......
A satisfied thump of a leather bound book or
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Gasps erupted from the scientists standing Around the large excavation site.
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Gritted teeth hold back hyperventilating lungs from Respirating into the microphone too loudly.
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There is a crack somewhere,
On a pearl in the ocean,
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It was a rookie mistake and we knew it.
Oh, how young we were.
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There are many things I've seen.
But the most significant may be
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And the bats were swung.
The peace was soothing
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The cold metal shock
Cutting hard into my skin.
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It's like
The smooth remains of
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The ribbon slips through his fingers,
And he feels sick to his stomach.
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It could kill you.
The leaves shatter from the pressure
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The base I made out of brick
The mortar laced with hope and
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Oh, I know what work is.
Work is persistently trying to love a mother
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Thought it was a dream.
Couldn't tell so I jumped.
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I cemented a wooden platform in my backyard,
And spent countless hours making sure it was steady and tight.
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Her name was Forest.
And I would have her.
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I made a wish.
A wish I was sure would not come true.
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100 poems later
I realize
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In the first moment before she opens
The saliva disengages her teeth with
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My name is Robert.
I have seen the Great Pyramids of Egypt.
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A woman speaks with her jaw split in half
Right below the tongue
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Imagine a world without love.
Now,
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Every morning the sun spills itself
Out of the sky
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I'm at work, right?
And I'm staring out the window
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Simple look in my direction
Eyes beaming small twisted signals.
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Wrapped in an oversized banket crying.
Her hands reach for a bear,
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Sir,
I am suffering a problem,
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He hunts the creases in the matress.
His muscles that were meant to be so taut,
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She spoke softly to him all through the night.
The time had come for him to learn.
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Fireball bouncing from the sky into your hand
Grasping so tight to reality that
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I'm convinced that the wrinkle you made in my bed never goes away.
Every night I am reminded
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