Sunday Nights

Oh, I feel like a horrible person (I know I am one).
**I keep promising to come back and reply and post again and then I don’t. Therefore, my current solution will be to simply appear again without any promises, since I seem to be having such a damn problem with commitment, lol.
Goodness, but it’s good to be back again And only now that I’ve browsed around all of your sites again have I realized how I truly missed you (and your very good poetry, in particular).

Here’s some writing… (yeah, finally, lol)**

Sunday Nights

Restless lethargy glitters with the dust speckles
strung onto the washing lines of lightrays
spun across the room.

Past once-white curtains and sprinkler-stained glass
troops of trees and roofs loom against the emptied sun
-like strangers
against streetlights -
as the battered cauldron pours its contents onto the horizon.

The street lies sprawled among the houses,
tucked up in the fuzzy cotton that blankets those
sleepy, prickly towns scattered through the country-side.

The house dozes like a white-haired organ player,
filling crosswords in the last few sunlight pools
pondering a nine-letter word synonymous for some French dessert
while the brick-blocks remain empty as the week to come.

~ by cravingoxygen on September 5, 2009.