Other Windows....

Lessons in Punctuation ~ Blue



There is poetry in life
There is life in poetry.
In your eyes are the hard
syllables of love,
in the bitter sweet smile
of a lost woman,
in the round concentration
of a red stop light.

I don’t know the last time
there was as magenta a sunset
or a more orange mango.

Was wine ever this red?

Poetry speaks a thousand
tricky words of sweetness,
ten times more in the language
of cold rain.

An abattoir of disappointment,
a kiss, a little death.
sweet as spring in a Russian winter.

Poetry is just the articulated
breakdown
of beauty.

Of death.

Of sorrow.

Her eyes, brighter
than a hundred suns,
or your mother’s Sunday best
crystal high on the shelf.

Take me to dinner,
the princess.
recite to me the words of a whore.

There is poetry in life
There is life in poetry.
In your eyes are the hard
syllables of love.