Memories - Poem by Tim Carlson
For it's never ending furies
tie up almost all
Openness. The curse,
head flung back,
salted, dry images of your,
Time flails forward,
like the fish, sweet flesh,
release is uncommon.
The storm passes, my eyes,
accustomed to the world of
fighting men and the entanglement,
Smile again, until the next
rendezvous with the snake's poison,
potent to the touch, but yearned for lustfully.
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