Night abducts

Dire deeds that wring their sweaty hands
where another man would just say, it costs
to harbor volatile spirits under your skin,
flee like dark fire flies in cold December.

Night abducts all that is fuzzy with frenzy,
the little black cat can carry when she sleeps.

The math and the content of old
beds with the very best of our age,
cheered by current magnetic poles
and licked by eyes looking for grades.

Tonight all content is external,
all drives run with dancing keys.

The speed of the thermometer
is certainly of no avail
to those who no longer die,
nor aspire to free air.




Poetry by Bob
Read 585 times
Written on 2006-03-11 at 01:37

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