
GOING HOME ~BY PHILIP BARTRAM
In the countenance of unlocked winds,
The moth-sustained night withers, and
Chicago, turning from drowsiness,
In the countenance of unlocked winds,
The moth-sustained night withers, and
Chicago, turning from drowsiness,
Across the distance, my heart remains,
Forever tied to yours, through joy and pains.
Don’t lock me in wedlock, I want
marriage, an
encounter —
THE RIDE Night has crushed the earth,And I am held in a carbon fiber handBy polyester belts secured at three points.The quarter moon, in all vagueness,Has come up from the sea and passedOver the sheer stone cliffs. I have climbed into this armor,Wheeled and powered for speed,To ride shielded beneath the entire weightOf night and…
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Grandfather spoke fondly of Ike
In a breath scuffed by the lung-deep
In a leave-rustling breeze,
The child dismounted a broom-stick horse,
Time flies,
When I look into your brown eyes,
Like chocolate sweets,
Your gaze rushed at me like waterfalls
Dropping rainbows on my heart