Monday, December 18, 2006

untitled

ordinary human unhappiness
it's an odd sort of goal
why is it so elusive
?

1 Comments:

Blogger Sarge said...

All that is left of autumn
I found in one small breeze
that had the scent of earth in it.

Slowly the ground freezes
and the air carries nothing in it
save a sharpness
and the smoke from three fires;
the soft light

promises long evenings
I used to read in once,
now, far from home
I dream of comforts
where once I dreamt adventures.

...It was nice to read your poetry...

peace,

Sarge

9:04 PM  

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