by phillipw | Oct 14, 2019 | CH, LO, ST, UN
“From Thy Dead Lips” There’s just a hollowness that has your smell Around it—like an aura of the sins We never did together. This shell, Its fan form, waits, on shores where death begins (If death can righteously be said to mark A start). The light around this...
by phillipw | Oct 10, 2019 | LO, UN
A Coded Message My love is like the hoarsest whisper…and It won’t be heard if you don’t bend to hear Its lyric silence in that dent of sand Beside the shore and lift pink curves to ear In reverence. My love is like a blue Electrified guitar that’s brooding...
by phillipw | Sep 17, 2019 | RI, UN, VE
Sex, Drugs, and Red Roses It seems at least a possibility That spoiled brats might just have feelings, too. They’d have the usual ones, hostility And sulking, and that adolescent brew Of self-regard, fragility and rage. But maybe Rimbaud had some emotion Like...
by phillipw | Sep 17, 2019 | LO, UN
It Was in Primitive Times that Doctors Used to Bleed Patients to Heal Them A message from my ventricle, the left One, filled with fiercely colored blood, you shoved Away. You did it bluntly, nothing deft About it. Brutal, your words were not gloved For mildness. ...
by phillipw | Sep 7, 2019 | UN
Innocent The scratch mark that your touch made on my lung Beside the ventricle that beat against That careless trace of fingertips—it stung My breath. That caress, casually dispensed, Was Cupid’s golden arrow, venom-tipped, That lighly brushed my larynx,...
by phillipw | Jul 5, 2019 | UN
A Gold-like Necktie from the Metropolitan Museum of Art I’m wearing unicorns around my throat And near my heart. Of course they’re cream-like white, Though on their necks in gold fields where they float Are clasped wide collars of a red not bright As blood but darker,...
