Monday, April 16, 2007

I built this house with concrete stone,
mortar and brick,
steel veins and glass eyes,
and planks of wood the color of flesh.

I built this house with callused hands,
aging bones and the ache of joints
that throbbed into me a will, or a need
to continue to build in spite of myself.

I built this house with blood and sweat,
ash, branches, and rotten leaves.
Into the cracks of the floor I poured
great, horrific pools of ink
that separated and formed again
to shapes like letters that told their own stories
in words I've yet to decipher.

2 Comments:

At 11:02 PM, Blogger Sam Christie-Sgro said...

forgot i bookmarked you. very nice imagery.

 
At 9:50 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Good words.

 

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