these are the timesdirty beloved


Inventory at Dusk

...So at first I was not needed.
I knelt under the sky blue sky
of the lips, and traced the final motion

where the hand had curled
like a fern...


...I sang for his wild mouth.
I sang instead of truth.
I sang for a place to lean on....

Robin Behn
Poetry Daily

Blog Archive


db annex larger,longer image-heavy posts