Soon Lit Doves
Void, where my heart lay bare
to the disconsolate sea-
Vacant still weeping-
By bridges made in sill,
Or yonder:
By the night
by the soon lit doves
in void where traffic utters
of staunch fray-
The callous vapidity-
ergo as stoned jive:
keeps some here muttering, intangibly-
seeking clouds of better debate
Now void, the night by the soon lit doves.
Bare to, the disconsolate hipsters-
Vacant here weeping by bridges made of sill
So still to cry, the soon lit doves.
A Cemetery Of Daisies
A limestone statue of a vagabond saint;
The Pacific Ocean breaks across shaded dunes-
Lift gentle lips and pull through to tide
Now, a stem of this tall tulip training With the candied orange tongue,
And the fire engine red petal-of gleaming hues.
{*}
Rows of fresh picked daisies line her copper pockets as Karen runs to shore, her small feet slushing in the wet blanketed sand. I have seen her briefly And in her brilliance she would save
many of the dearest, Though too many here, have been laid to rest.
A Wayfarer, Cursory
Spence, sprawled at dawn- his pillow case,
a bed of leaves Stuffed animals line much of this,
{his open space}
One animal, Spence calls Tycoz, the tiger.
He pets the frothy mane of Tycoz and exclaims-
What a polite and precious lady cat.
Now- Spence may look up after a spell,
And address a few other pets by his kind words-
But what he could really use is some change.
Christopher Kenneth Hanson (ckhanson81)
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