All along the ticking surface
All the sand along the edge
All deep down in long dry throats:
Fingers press.
Hands Press.
All from loose and baggy skin
Round half-lucid teary minds
On beaches few and far away:
Fingers Press.
Hands press.
Wristwatch
More by wph
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The Statue
I looked up at the statue, and it looked down at me.
There we stood, unhappy wretches.
-
The Pretti Doctrine
If we get scared, they have us in their pockets.
If we don't, all they have is blood.
And blood is not a weapon.
-
The History of the Entire World
From what I remember, it was born growing.
It was born hot, expanding, glowing,
and the people were made of gold
and of fire.
And it kept growing, it kept burning hot, bright,
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