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April 5, 2010

Photo by artă obraznică

Hang, Hang, Hang,
The indiscernible curvature
Of your pen
Slides, effortlessly
Against my wall.

The midnight madness seeps
My poreless barrier
Like a shiny swiss army knife
That dances
Ivory tofu.

And then
I had a hanger.

And then
I stealthily
Hung up my private laundry
Soft ribbons
Of half formed thoughts
And sighed
The hanger
To the ground.
4 Comments leave one →
  1. April 6, 2010 12:14 AM

    You’ve been in a poetic mood lately, haven’t you, Grace? And you weren’t kidding when you said you were writing lots. Lucky us. :-)

    Also, I must commend you on the imagery here. “Ivory tofu”? “The midnight madness seeps through my poreless barrier”? Good stuff!

  2. Donald Roy Miller permalink
    April 6, 2010 4:52 PM

    Grace, thank you for sharing your gifts: Your lovely way of expressing ideas and words—in ways that could only come from a lovely heart and soul. When I visit your site, I am uplifted in every worthy way. And I am also humbled into a silencing awe, feeling that any comment of mine would be inadequite.

    Grace: Thanks Donald.

  3. April 7, 2010 1:15 AM

    I love your poetry also, Grace. Have you ever thought of publishing these in book form? These along with your photos would make a very handsome little volume.

    Grace: These kinda have been just random scribbles…but thank you so much, maybe I’ll give that some thought :)

  4. May 6, 2010 10:01 PM

    This is a wonderful poem.

    Grace: Just bookmarked yours.

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