Michael DiSciullo

Drowning In Place - Poem by Michael DiSciullo

Here I am again,
pocketful of happiness,
bottles of love.

Disappearance is a virtue,
Jean Renoir on mute.
How many angels fit on the head of a syringe?
I lost count again.

Thinking of you,
thought goes to bed.
Sports and music and politics,
all the trappings of the integrated: gone.

My reel runs out in bliss,
a valediction to the pain which I no longer deem necessary.

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Comments about Drowning In Place by Michael DiSciullo

  • Rookie Goldy Locks (10/10/2007 5:26:00 PM)

    gathering in moments, morelike, not drowning in place.

    well done, sjg~! (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Poem Edited: Friday, April 15, 2011

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