The Poetry Of.
Paul David Thomas.........
The burning silhouette
of static and an etched proportion
civilized the important levels.
It's not just about rising-
acid verses part of my human diet
become spoken by robotic blinking cursors
instead of focused caustic fuels
from vapid eloquent mouths
that are seemingly capable
of such remarks
yet save the research for tomorrow,
for the unspoken trend of
safely abandoned principals
to the electric land
where no one has to be accountable.
I can always look through
These electric windowpanes
To see what you might have meant,
but had said three hundred thirty three times
before sending to my mind
the thoughts Well-Thought-Out
of what you meant to say.
Tears for Child- for M.
I knew the lies
that once stained your lips and eyes
but now reside
between your thighs
for all to hear.
The swelling tides
once pained your lunar skies
with a surprise
that you now hide
for three-quarters of a year.
Letters missing from your name,
a cotton blanket, a bathroom tile,
the blood and shame,
for him you blame,
with tears for your lost child...
A Soft Collapse
This air flows through the mesh screen and cools her fur.
She lies there with her hands around her face breathing slowly.
The breeze enables her to feel a better way to know her human body
and this stupid war that has left thousands of cells dying on executed
scripts.
I think in the sea it is right. Myself in the sea is right.
The sea is the dressing-room for the shark,
and the ether is the dressing-room for the soul.
As he usually was, he was magnificent,
summing up a life of spinning survivors
wading in a leaving brotherly ocean.
An anniversary of souls crashing as a lamp
thrown across a vacant room.
Schedules and calendars
and my clock that counts backwards
moisturizing the dried cells of my mind.
A rare occasion
a swollen breath
a waiting night
a trial.
From start to finish
a soft collapse.
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