Array
(
[sid] => 160915
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => crib
[time] => 2010-07-03 00:43:38
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] =>
the idea insulates itself
inside my head
burrows deeply
& buried there. . .
an itch that cannot be scratched
an event horizon beckoning
where machinations splinter
& diffuse, expanding there
into indefinable nothingness. . .
persuading me to just a glance
alluding to the boundless
of which we're all unknowingly a part
& in my gesturing wisdom
a historian of blind wings
I turn away from shadow-self
annoint my inner child
renege vague defenses
before celestial hosts
as gravity shifts
as darkness dawns
& the sands of time
reframe the desert of my soul
the head-board creaks
nervously
crude, indifferent sleep
rages against meek dreams
surely, I have never been
so incomplete
[comments] => 3
[counter] => 309
[topic] => 62
[informant] => elle
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 10
[ratings] => 2
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => spiritual
)
If you wish to use any poem for any purpose, please either EMAIL Mick from the sites feedback form, or go to the AUTHOR'S site and EMAIL the author for permission. If you Email Mick for permission on any poem that is not his personal works, he will endeavor to contact the author on your behalf. This poem comes from Your Poetry Dot Com https://www.your-poetry.com/ The URL for this poem is: https://www.your-poetry.com/route.php?page=poetry/PoemDetail&story_id=160915 |