Saturday, March 14, 2009

A TWITCH OF SEVERAL NERVES


A TWITCH OF SEVERAL NERVES.



Bird,
wings, wind arriving.
Clock,
fell sun, face diving.


Darker as bones cramp,
a skivvy for Time.
Discreet sky: a line,
late, perhaps the bird
at flight, or a word
was unwound straight,
merry on its hook.
The stained fingers
that wrote it, long mute,
wearing an ashtray
for their grave of talk.


Twitch,
the silk bird grieving.
Cold,
listen, wind leaving.


By Alex,
copyright delphine

2 comments:

  1. wOW, his poetry always leaves me contemplating the meaning. A word unwound straight...hmmm...intriguing.

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  2. err sorry I think that is my typing error, think it should be worm, I will change it!

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