smallness

small poetry

by then
i had crossed
the reason

language was tender
naive and insipid

i was beginning to write
verse
with motion
perspective
a salving madness

i began asking
for the drop
to steal
heaven

a spark in the horizon
a mission
a long-drawn laughter
after the joke of life
had been exposed

it was with all the things
we came to know
that i crossed
the sadness

at last
alone

by the emptiness
of the road.

 

 

 

POEMS