gregory collins Poems

To be afraid of death is bad luck to me, a fear
i expect no justice or mercy from. The fact that

my soul has twisted so much, i think the
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Could there be a beach made of tears,
like music of snow thrown from the fingertips of a lady.
Then photographed
balancing on a sharpened knifeblade,
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Forgetting beauty, will break you in half with
the right look, like light cauterizing darkness

and spinning my soul like a top on mirrors
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'i had a lover's quarrel with the world'

epitaph of Robert Frost
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I could have been there down by the sea, with pockets
full of silence and a priceless smile between the legs.

Maybe like a smaller love song that begins to shed her dreams
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The black of the night sky adores the paralysis of my
eyes. Like a mirror told me birds cannot reach where

there are no walls; Like i sometimes look for mushrooms
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The cracks and lines on my face
make me an easy man to read,
and it is relaxing
that i have never had to think before.
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When light looks me straight in the eyes,
and says you are no son of mine:

and the years are not a healer, but hiding places.
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Smell the clouds feet, a dingy waiting room for rain.
A useless pasttime. Catch snowflakes in your head,

the same day comes every day of the year. Nothing
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The stars come up to my porch with their ears alert.
Then morning comes with a clock and washes the sky blue,
and i am someone sipping liquor from a glass that stings the outside world.
I am ceaselessly destroying myself through the wilderness inside.
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