Poetry

David’s currently skating through a rough patch of ice. David’s not very good at skating on the good ice.

Here’s some poetry:


Snow on Branches

Ephemeral, transcendent snow falls softly on crooked tree branches
Said tree branches now have snow on them
I love you, Maggie

Love

The warm and sullen summer breeze blowing gently through your soft auburn hair
Reminds me of the time
We went bowling with your brother-in-law

Soul Food

I would like to curl my shadowy, unknowable self into the dark corners or your soul
I bet it’s warm in there
It’s been cold lately
I’m also hungry for chips for some reason

Dear Son

The weight of the world rests on your insufficient shoulders
You knoweth not
One day you must show me
How to teach myself to live
I’m also looking for the remote
I saw you playing with it

Untitled

The crude folly of the heavens could not divine your unconquerable spirit.
A thousand unseen golden vistas cannot explain your raging beauty.
Words are good for that. Sentences.

It Is What It Is

The soft ivory skin of your shapely back; so kind to the touch.
Your glorious incandescent face; terrifying in its raw beauty.
The smell of your neck, the warm pulse of your veins.
Your uncompromising heart, an unrepentant warrior.
The bob of your colored hair; permutations of glory.
The taste of your skin, all that is you.
No.
It’s your fucking brain I love.