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August fever
| Open Poetry #10 |
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August fever |
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Master Senior Member
since 1999-08-18
Posts 1867Boston, MA 
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“...and, like eggs in the frying pan, the face spills its eyes all over the pillowcase.” J. Brodsky Arid thirst crams my larynx with silence, Laughing hungers arises inside, Like the sun through the shades, through my eyelids, Burning rings scorch my eyes with their light. It’s unbearably hot, -- hell is giving its preview. Down the cheeks, blistering dreams in small beads, Slide and rest on chapped lips, then continue, Down the firmament, falling like seeds. Is this hell or an aftermath of a global warming? Both are bearable, but I think that it’s neither. Turn it down, Goodness! I’ve got the warning! No reply... -- a symptom of fever. < !signature--> Check out my poetry here: http://cafepoetry.com/stage1/andrey_kneller.htm#My%20Hamlet [This message has been edited by Master (edited 10-25-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 Andrey Kneller - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Ron K. Fox Senior Member
since 2000-10-24
Posts 925 |
Whew, I need a cool iced tea after that. great stuff master. ron |
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Master Senior Member
since 1999-08-18
Posts 1867Boston, MA |
Thanks Ron, I'm glad you liked it! Check out my poetry here: http://cafepoetry.com/stage1/andrey_kneller.htm#My%20Hamlet |
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