Notebook: March 10

I keep the blinds half-open

and risk admitting

stray bullets of starlight.


A lone motorist unwinds

Route 60's black Scotch-tape.




Old brick church

sitting in darkness

across the street

at four in the morning,

dormant storehouse

of saints and angels,

what do you know

of suffering and lust,

how can you speak

to the violence of desire,

to the velvet agonies

of restless dreamers

writhing in the bright dust

of their spent dreams?




A milli-moment of sleep

before the advent of birdsong.

Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2017-05-25 at 03:07

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Tough night, wonderful meditation.


by Thomas DeFreitas