- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Solstice
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I will dream of Roman streets
wandering lost in search of a place
or face
that can only be found by not searching
to return again
I will pass this long dark day
until the night welcomes me home
to recover my health in clean air
and yet, I take no joy from breath alone
Dear Poets,
I fear our poor Keats is at his worse
his treasure
consumed in a flood
of a rising tide
from a shrinking world
and minds smaller still
And as I complete my own ellipse upon the globe
I can but wonder
at how much larger
is the ellipse of one who wrote his name in water
Oh, to return there again
so I may dream of Philly streets
wandering uncertain in place
and constant haste
that can only be stilled by breathing
how long will this posthumous life of mine continue?
- COMMENTS
