God forgive me, God forgive me
there is always one more death to paint us an ochre without axle aiming us like a sunflower down a path a harp once followed to still the scythe before losing love against itself Dying for a good read? Revive yourself at Academy of American Poets!
When we die, who is it that really passes on?
Your final touch of sunlight here.
He said, "You're beautiful Like a flower." I said, "Pick me And I'll die." So he groped me By the stem And ripped me From my life. I blossomed In his sun He inhaled my scent as it rained I asked, Can this last forever? Ignoring a Destiny, preordained. I wilted The next morning And … Continue reading “Lilies” by Max Ruth