Tuesday, August 26, 2008


Not much to say about this poem except it's the result of a string of days changing one word and then another. Not one line rhymed when I started, but I have begun to face a reckless truth: I'm a rhyme addict. I love to rhyme. Most of the time. Symbols and chimes. Oh, don't get me started.


When I was pretty young, I would listen over and over to Roy Orbison's "Love Hurts" and cry every time. This poem is perhaps is my version of the same.

Hope's buried

in the sound

absent space

gone underground

Wild wanton

reckless time

hanging laundry

on the line

Dripping intentions

faulty signs

hurricane hearts

chiseled too fine

prayer and effort

held too tight

No harm done

not tonight

no blame

no wishes

no right or wrong

no shared secrets


Love's too hard

Devotion too brief

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