Blue tarp, blue form
synthetic but beautifully
perfect in its blue, torn
to tatters by the wind.
Wear and
tear.
The more pieces freed
from the whole, the more
the wind licks the blue
into flames. Serrated
flames,
blue fire.
Colorado Review
Spring 2009
from Poetry Daily
someone else kindly start. use the comment box, please. :)
Renga # 2
Sculpt the breath withdrawn
From within, polish the curves
And croak that whisper, utter
The guttural push,
Split the spittle from spirit
And body, and gushing forth now
The exhalation. So speak it, speak
of it: the eking of the ache,
this woe we plough upon,
the rich loam which sometimes
blossoms into heart, or a yield
of voices.
