Thursday, January 20, 2005



My heart is like a singing bird
whose nest has caught on fire.
A fire started by a lit cigarette,
an oyster bisque. Ponies have nothing
to do with peonies
, he opines.
His finger slicked with saliva,
circling the rim of a wineglass.
I ask him to open his shirt.
How our lives evolve and revolve.
If eros is a form of erosion, then
I’m feeling a little ob(li)vious tonight.
Like someone who talks with both hands.


Radish King said...

Welcome to blogland!

Radish King said...

Page just saw this and said "Peter's gone over to the dark side."

Kells said...


Hello & welcome! So good to see you here in the net of the internet.

I'll be linking you up tonight.

Happy Blogging!

Suzanne said...

Welcome, Peter. Nice digs.


Peter said...

Thank you Kelli, and Suzanne.
I was enjoying reading everybody's blogs, and feeling like too much of a voyeur . . . I had to join in eventually. What is the saying? "We become what we resist?"
Suzanne, your chapbook sounds wonderful.

Suzanne said...

Thanks so much, Peter! (blush)

The same thing happened to me--I was reading so many blogs that I finally decided to take that first tentative step into blogland. I'm glad I did, it's a great place and the natives are very friendly. (smile)