Remorse
Time consumes us with fear,
Age is unstoppable and strong,
A soft wrinkle lines your face,
A small trickle runs down from your old eyes,
Age does not care about my feelings,
And the flock of sheep in your dreams slow,
One by one they age and die,
Leaving gaps in your dreams, and in mine,
My dreams, which filled my nights,
And your days burst like rotting carcasses,
The blood will return to the dirt,
And when it does,
The constant raining, longing,
Will cease, waiting to remove all remorse…
sonnet XCI
Age covers us like drizzle,
Time is interminable and sad,
A salt feather touches your face,
A trickle ate through my shirt.
Time does not distinguish between my hands
And a flock of oranges in yours,
With snow and picks life chips away,
At your life, which is my life.
My life, which I gave to you, fills
With years like a swelling cluster of fruit,
The grapes will return to the earth.
And even down there time
Continues, waiting, raining
On the dust, eager to erase even absence.
Weekly Schedule (11/29-12/3)
14 years ago