Time slaps the flower of age,
And scars like pinched scab
bleed at recollection.
I, caught in the headlight of wrinkled flesh-
...
The years drop at my feet
Like weightless snow
Heavy on the side-walk.
I kick the backside upwards
...
Simple Grace
Time slaps the flower of age,
And scars like pinched scab
bleed at recollection.
I, caught in the headlight of wrinkled flesh-
Flutter waspish eyelids at death,
Teasing my way into simple grace.