A Cargo of Green Hearts
~POEMS~
I have become ordinary
but know the cure. the moon stands on the lake forming a silver dock the nightbirds have no name; they butter the air with their black paintbrushes. I once dreamed I’d killed a man and was afraid I’d been caught then woke, more relieved I was not caught than of murder. there is still a dead body in my skull. an ordinary victim who walked on water made of the moon someday he will die and it won’t be a dream and the night won’t be made of outer space but birds. Comments are closed.
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Poetry LogPoems are posted here when I'm ready to share them. I often don't title my poems. The date you see above the poem may be the date it was posted here and not necessarily the date it was created. To see more, click on the Archives below. Archives
January 2020
CategoriesUnless otherwise noted, all content ©Paul-William Gagnon, Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-NoDerivs license.
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