Saturday, January 16, 2010


The Remains of the Days

The wind drooped like a curtain

calling out your name

from the ashes,

embers of last summer’s eyes

still remaining in the loam.

I have baked many loaves

encrusted them with miniature

cranberry clocks.

We are all keeping time

watching from windows

and verandas.

Yesterday is a soft shoe shuffle

of all my today’s and tomorrow’s,

I can never utter the words Goodbye.

The iridescent wind

will always call out your name.

I am Human

I am a flawed caterpillar crawling on my knees

I have seventeen legs with which I see

I have blue perforated tentacles for ears

I spin webs of non truth just for kicks

I regurgitate my own laughter for amusement

I walk upside down on my hands

I am imperfection perfected

I look for love in all the wrong places

I am human after all.

Kevin Harling.

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