Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 6, 2006 Dark Poetic Prose

04-06-06 thursday 12:18 am

Trickles the Sunrise

The curve comes. Sounding us out letter by letter. In syllables too phonetic. Where everything can hear itself. How it would sound should someone else speak us.

Out loud. Solve the measure. Pride the reaction.

The flesh happens. Develops like a Polaroid fidgeting into focus. Gases condensing between paper fists. Capture the shadows. Still the colors.

Until everything is nondimensional.

Where is the sound. What are we without it.

Flat.

Soddom without a Ghamorah.

Pillars of salt turning away from too late.

She knows now. How near it is. The frail of the broken branch as sours the wind. Turn over the fraction. The answers still the same.

Sleeting aprils bend to accommodate the blossom already begun. I see them there at the tip of every branch. Movies paused. Lost under the running water because the soap wont go away.

Every hour choking on the one before it. A lapse in regurgitate. It is true. We are self-contained. Wholly responsible.

So why then do you still try to save me. Especially when I don't feel I deserve it.

Old friends are just that.

Trickles the sunrise as I look on astounded.