by phillipw | Sep 19, 2019 | RO
Rising and Setting As if the moon laced blood throughout the veins In all my smooth-skinned parts with shining dust Drawn off from her pocked seas; as if with pains She coaxed vast tides within my soul, caused lust Implacable as crater shapes to form Within my lunar...
by phillipw | Sep 19, 2019 | LO, RO
Far and Near The moon seemed full forever, fixed and set There high above my loneliness the night I went in search of distant love and met You with you heart held up as in a rite, As if an Aztec priest could sacrifice His own wide chest, incise it with...
by phillipw | Sep 6, 2019 | RO
The Closed Eyes Have It The death of love numbs like paralysis Or like a tetanus infection in A purple vein, a poison without hiss, A serpent trying punctures barring sin. This end has lain, lurked voiceless from the start Coiled round an evergreen, behind a rock,...
by phillipw | Aug 18, 2019 | RO
Determined Pastel A lavender construction, softly strong When fresh, is held in place now by a vase Of shaft-like shape which makes the short life long — Or stretches it at least. This is because A terror known as death is creeping from Within the rose and so it...
by phillipw | Aug 11, 2019 | RO
There’s nothing like religion made of crass [Based on two items from yesterday’s news.] There’s nothing like religion made of crass Stupidity and ignorance, unless You add some mental illness to surpass The superstitious, ordinary mess. Now take for...
by phillipw | Jul 9, 2019 | RO
Roberto Coutiño Albores in Kensington Gardens His eyes are beautiful, the pupils brown With flecks of heaven’s upland meadows set Inside each circlet. They are heaven come To shine in quiet glory. Both are met With blindess: people passing them go blind, Like...
