Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Glass work




















Wearing a stain one less
fluxing,
signing in unison
under sheets of observance
in poorly dreamt nights.

The kettle song, just listen
Mama’s words let smitten;
Till see(it)through.

But conditional vows as such
you may sneeze endearingly
and watch ‘em
like lilting fear get
tinted with the sketchiness.