Monday, August 30, 2010

A draft called "Edwin's Fort"

And does it fade, her heart of stone?
So warm long through night.
Her swelling dawn. Grey cliffs, titans,
Storm her streets at morning bell.

And did they know who crowned her?
Who gave her guardians of old,
That every glance, each burst of gunfire
Would put constraint upon the throat?

And when it fades, is it gone forever?
With tomorrow, flaws which come with age?
How can it when the morning shows
That each new line is more perfect still.

And let it fade, if fading is to see her
Restored with every breaking day.
Let it fall and die. Let it be buried,
And let it rise for any she would hold.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Concession fare

Green light. charged to burst
since Thursday last. Run thumb,
soft nail, down a flank made
rough by age, by adventure.

Hold tight with teeth, slip
between sheets which keep
fingerprints, DNA, promises.
Find flaws with lips and tongue.

Orange light, yearn for more
zones to explore. Teeth to tips,
stall at the threshold- Red light.
Get off, baby. I'm already touched.