Frank Hill Poems

I sit collapsed, as a desperate prayer,
At the crashing gates of your solemn pose,
Peddling my pieces as a compromise,
As; ‘choices that can never be chose’,
...

Daughter buried in a arm-fold,
Half limp karma, licking at her hand,
Red polka-dot head light…and,
Something frightening, found in the sand,
...

I grow Strangly, its the wildred blosseming spasms of a deviant
thats carefully slipping into liquidating winds,
and its storming through a world where cracked tibias embrace the neck.
...

I feel in your forever, the winding and the pain,
And I feel that you’ve been building, just to build it up again,
And I know that you have crossed, those roads I have not seen,
And so I know, that you can hold, the madness in my mean,
...