Think of a door
opening,
yet none appear,
then we must vanish
or the world must
turn inside out...
a reversal
sin, if there is still
such a thing,
I mean
various things
to plague you
the godhead empty,
belief overuled,
oh! yes, goodness
a kind of shield,
yet something that won't
always protect you,
and words
when will
you decide
to double back,
a flavour for knowledge
so unbecoming,
self is it's own
snap shot,
caught
convictedly
your belief's
underdeveloped,
a soul smashed pigment
a blur that catches
the climate...
I can feel the fire,
almost see it
blazing quietly alone,
it is a heat
that never gives
off enough,
it is the private picture
of my fears,
in a troubled blue
parking lot above...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem