Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

i.

Your lips wound me
with the beauty of your poems,
parchment-thin my heart
must always listen,
I do not know what comes over me,
even now
is it my shallow art?

The moon rising near the end of August banishes me
to the hinterland,
sea to sand,
we were destined to meet.

"There are better uses of time.", I protested
you said nothing
and left me
with
a killing frost.

ii.

Leaves fall into an eternal green,
benevolent,
the living branch
loses no tender bark.

The desert that is loneliness
sees another mirage, the hundredth monkey
writes another poem and the sun rises
as if nothing ever happens.

this is good...subtle in its suggestions about poetry and the author or authors perhaps...." a killing frost" may be a reference to Robert, ..."Leaves" may be a reference to Whitman .....but even if they aren't intended , the poem holds up on its own merit.....once again, a powerful closing stanza....you have a noticeable gift for that.....keep 'em coming I say........peace, steve (saw), either one is fine

Thank you for the mingo.

Steve, in a moment of self's annihilation, the multitudes of myself became... tender leaves.

~