Friday, July 29, 2005

Dry Lightning

I love voile more
than I love olive.
But violet, I love it
more than I love
voile.

O evil! O
vile! Violence
springs from love ‘n’ ice,
from nice love,
a lone vice.

But how does complaint
become compliant?
Precious beget
precarious?

Oh my — such
limitation in-
imitably ends in
imitation.

Eternity’s an entirety.
A word’s a sword.

And I’ve forgot
is
to forgive.

4 comments:

Anne said...

O, evil 'tis -- I loves it!

Andhyka said...

Wow your poem really reflects your creativity. I like it.

gina said...

gorgeous gorgeous

Radish King said...

GINZA!


*snork*