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August 16, 1999
| POETRY |
To touch is
dismantling
and does not
equal loving
but can.
Shame waters us.
Turn from
my naked
disaster,
the comfortless-
ness of this
sitting
next to
you
on your confident
bed.
Commentarium (7 Comments)
Too often are the words divorced from their meaning, Too often are the brush strokes forgotten in the flavour of the painting, And yet a thought, such as this, nurtured with meaning can seed a forest of prose in deepest Africa.
I like it. I like it alot.
Beautiful. Arresting.
very impressive, if my poetry ever says so much so succinctly I would die smiling.
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?
I like this one it reminds me of myself and my lover on his confident bed and me with my not so perfect body but still wanting it.
This is one of my favorite poems so far in Nerve. It's so delicate and unsettled. This man should be the poetry editor!
Now you say something