Thursday, September 4, 2008

a stifled sigh’s smolder

the weathered, rugged recesses,
raked up the
reek of firewood
and dry orange peels.
an ant racing
the dusty windowsill’s
cluttered mustiness;
wrenched wings in apertures
of busted glassy windows
reflecting broken expressions;
the stench of old smears,
burning charcoal
fanned by fumes of aches,
sad and longing,
the small niches
molding thoughts
of tangible abstractions
of a disheveled past,
reviving a wistful day
of damp dreams
where, time, an arid river
of vagueness,
filled the dream I saw
of my room
adjacent to the barn
in the northern side
of the old house .
Sphere: Related Content

1 comment:

Dr. Jay SW said...

Lovely complementary combination of poetry and photography...I'm not sure why decaying houses have such an appeal to me...in poems and photos, at least....