1/2/11

Red Wine (And Penguins)

its red color, bloodlike,
silky and smooth
warms the janurary night
your shedding scarf
roped around the neck
of an angel
wheat crust, so delicate and sweet
the taste of carmelization
and fowl
the slumber ends with moaning
the groans to come
boredom and mindless motions
recounting the past travels
beaches, old hotels, and sunsets
a winter wonderland awaits
at

Like Nothing

  Like eating cardboard for days. Like heavy air full of silence. Like a sharp edge of ice. Like a suit hung up in a bag. Like a drooping an...

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