Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Cholera

     The baser pole voids wisdom,
these fouled sheets a generation's labor.

Life so acutely sensed in youth's searing summer,
               when words served me.

Time consumed chasing after absolutes...
Friedrich, Christiane. Alas, there is no relief.

         Ashen twilight shrouds
           all forms ascending
             immutable dusk.

Nanette, a kiss before
  breath's task ceases.