desire crawls past

as seasons speak in tongues gone

the infinite becomes ghost,

seasons spit lingers

poor heart withers for kisses

this season brings back the lost

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Comments
  1. Fereh says:

    Well done. Melancholic, beautiful.

  2. bostonpoetry says:

    the infinite becomes ghost… what a line! Great writing and very well-wrought sedoka. -Mike

  3. vb holmes says:

    Evokes the mood and mystery of pagan solstice celebrations–well done.

  4. There is a melancholic atmosphere, tinged with an edginess, that fringes these verses.

  5. Ahh those seasons … lost language. 🙂

  6. brian miller says:

    wow what a feel in your words…great choice of words too…seasons spit and withers play well together…makes me think of fall when the ghosts draw close….

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