John McChord

Peacock

Men of painted mustaches

Say nothing but mean everything

Smoke filled halls smother more holes in coats than coats cover skin

How much sorrow can you force to drip from the side of a glass

The nihilist and lover lie behind broken hazes

Most nights here last forever

Not even the sun or blue neon signs will find us

Why is this poison so sweet ?

Why is there no end to this unraveling .

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    we dance, to survive
    noting
    all the feathers, we shed
    that get trodden, on
    whilst
    we tiptoe, so as not to step
    on anyone's, shadow...
    (wonderful poetry
    thanks for choosing to share
    and inspiring my own little scribbled reply)



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