Thursday, December 10, 2009

Some Thursday Poetry

Dumb Ruminations

When the light goes on
he folds paper he loves
hearing about ulterior motives
after the moment has passed

the metal skull clicks
the light goes off

From outside the door
he sounds like Velcro scraped
across brick the scratch
of fire across his face

you have waited for him
it has been your secret
deep in the air he travels
you fall like ashes into his ocean


you wave your hand
like crab apple trees
taking the wind
little weights swinging
sometimes in circles
but back and forth

a ring of light gold
around your finger
holds it there
until the solitaire
twinkles even at you

looking back at you
sometimes in circles

-Soren Stockman

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