Poems from jhbeeland
How can I even begin to tell you
How overwhelmed I feel
By the erraticism of my own thoughts,
Which fly past my outstretched hand
In a...
It is hard for him to
Resist lighting more leaves,
Exercise urges for incendiarism,
Replicate that first spark,
From which he gasps.
...
The crisscross pattern,
Its very nature, it doesn’t protect;
Allows for the slanted rays of evening
To fall through: a colander.
Nor can...
Blaring horns
Form melodies,
The familiar tune:
That of the night,
That of the rush.
The 3am toms
Prowl fire escapes;
The midnight...