Patti Masterman

Patti Masterman Poems

1. Other's Time Is Not Your Time 12/29/2009
2. I Die In Bits And Pieces 12/29/2009
3. Winding Sheet 12/31/2009
4. The Burden Is Easy And The Yoke Is Light 12/31/2009
5. Life Contains Within Itself A Strange Lack 1/3/2010
6. Memory Is A Cool Pool Of Checkered Fabrics 1/21/2010
7. We Are The Answer To The Question 1/21/2010
8. Every Day I Hear One Of My Loved Ones 1/21/2010
9. When We First Met 1/21/2010
10. Indifference 1/23/2010
11. Gilded 1/24/2010
12. Words We'Ll Never Say 1/24/2010
13. When You First Wake Up After Sleeping 1/24/2010
14. I'M Not A Hypochondriac 1/20/2010
15. My Love Appeared Perfectly Folded 1/25/2010
16. Forgotten Young Hands 2/4/2010
17. Who Opens The Door 2/4/2010
18. I Have A Tattoo Of You In My Heart 2/4/2010
19. Your Two Eyes Worship 2/4/2010
20. In Aubergine Ochers 2/4/2010
21. Fractious Children 2/4/2010
22. It's A Trick Of The Heart 2/4/2010
23. I'M A Word Slut 2/4/2010
24. God Hides In The Smallest Places 2/4/2010
25. Questions Haunt The Waking Man 2/4/2010
26. He Carried Me Far 1/26/2010
27. We Cry For Ourselves 1/26/2010
28. In Ritual Evil Gets It's Ego Stroked 1/26/2010
29. Take Beautifulest Draughts 2/6/2010
30. Out Of Nothing Came The All 2/6/2010
31. Some Things Demand An Answer 2/6/2010
32. My Words I Set To Music 2/6/2010
33. Why Ask If Love Is True Or Walks 2/6/2010
34. Sanctuary 2/7/2010
35. My Other Self 2/7/2010
36. In Photos 1/25/2010
37. Broken Symmetry 2/7/2010
38. Fire And Clay 2/8/2010
39. It Takes Some Darkness 2/8/2010
40. My Heaven Fell 2/8/2010
Best Poem of Patti Masterman

A House Breathes Through Its Bones

A house breathes through its bones,
Its summits sit like sentries;
Though rafters decompose-
It never denies entry.

Its ghosts lie in their beds,
Soft earth beneath their memory;
The shutters firmly closed-
The past seen only dimly.

Read the full of A House Breathes Through Its Bones

The Belly Of The Beast

Lost in the belly of the beast,
We look up and see all those curving arches,
And we think then that we're in some majestic cathedral;
But the next sloping corridor takes us down to the mortuary,
The processing station, for what we are busy turning into.
But we still ignore the smell, as we're too busy believing
That for us, a great feast is being prepared-
Just like children at christmas time
Always believe the world is organized solely around them;

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